Saturday, October 09, 2010

poem: longing fire

sacrifice the crunchier:
the easier paths

lead home past

the aspidistras of longing

fire withers in the withering

night, life lives its

breezeways, its vagaries,

its anthems of the

gathering womb, i see

the angels of

san angelo, angelicas in their dark

angel hair,

foam on the ships

of plenty, i saw

the passing fanciers,

fancier digs,

the pies in the sky's eye,

the vestal blooms

blooming past fusion,

past fission,

past all the hollow tombs

she might have cried

she might have sung

she might have wrung

from your heart of

hearts, your last



of the castaway night.



Blogger Dee Martin said...

the easier paths lead home, but what a view on the wandering journey. Funny how certain words trigger things in memory and thought - your poems always take me places totally unrelated to what you were writing but that is that essence of poetry to me. A doorway that leads in to the poet or a doorway out that leads to the world. You seem to do both at once

6:37 AM  
Blogger Teresa said...

I like this one, but it's really haunting.

10:02 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Dee: Love you take on the poet's / reader's journey: your words are quite beautiful.

12:13 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Teresa: There was a lot of haunted longing in the riverside air that night, methinks. Poet picking up lots of things in the music, the eaves, the islands.

12:15 PM  
Blogger Teresa said...

Do your dental fillings play jazz music during thunder storms??? You pick up an awful lot of resonance. ;-)

5:35 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Teresa: I wish. As long as it's the right jazz. I wouldn't want Sun Ra running around my molars.

1:22 PM  

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