From SPT RETURNING FROM HIBERNATION The poet returns from hibernation. An iron silence rusts to the point where an inexplicable noise leaks in through weakened seams, and words make that long voyage to wisdoms stronghold. The poet calls through the mist that clings to eyes that can only count. The abacus casts its shadow into every corner of the commonplace. A childs hand carries a tiny fire. The poet seeks a bridge the width of a whisker. Lightning slices through dust. Vivid pictures collide inside the totems of heated stone. The poet drinks lemonade, dreams of allegorical ladders, of horses and eagles dancing. Can a mountain flex its history? Does a tree exist before its word?
Posted on: Wed, 29 Jan 2014 14:34:05 +0000
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