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The Forgetting

' I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets. '
                       -Sylvia Plath

(1)

Here, where the sea
Meets the sky
How I drift, drift away,
Forgetting it all somehow.

I am a zephyr ---
Painted blue to match
The sky.

How the nascents are
Overwhelming, the clouds
Copious with this
Cotton ---

Peeling from a harvest of
Forgotten dreams;
Goals.

How I wrote of this place
When dawn found me
Suspended in red-auburn
Embellishment ---

The Moons final tugging,
The chord frayed,
Breaking like the
Heart of a child.

Now I hold no thing anymore.
I need no holding
To remember meaning or Truth.
I am white as an angel ---

And my inner mad voices
Are the legion;
How they shout and laugh
As the World goes on
Dreaming, churning in its
Vat of Forgiveness ---

And I am forgiven;
My deeds widowed
By primordial spirits ---

How their strangeness is
Comical and green and
Big and wide as the sea
And its scales.

The creatures appear ---
How whimsy is at home here
Like babys breath surrounding
A rose.

My Love is gone, but oh,
I no longer need him,
I float without him;
I am like an androgeny ---

The seed-pod has dried,
The seeds are no care of mine
Nor anyones;
Perhaps their home is
In the stars.

They bury into the sky as
I am buried
In each cloud that dares to
Fly by.

(2)

Forgetful are waves
Crashing on shores,
East or West ---

Birthed by the great Atlantic
Strung by mussels
Clinging on by maidens hair
To the great terminalities.

And the Sun and Moon
Rocks within them
As the tide does without,
Greening slowly and carefully.

As green and blue
Are green and blue,
I cannot recall another hue,
Although I'm sure the
Full-spectrum was a
Completion of altruisms
In some far-away land
Where rainbows form
And mists settle ---

How those mists
Evaporated and dispersed
And the reds became purples
And the oranges yellows.

My head and heart wore a
Mahogany crown;
A gown of solidity.

And the Oaks were seeping
Their nectar of repentance,
Sappy and reticular.

The Golds and Garrisons,
The Ochres of Yesterdays
Burning on the heaving wind ---
Caveats of the breeze.

And I laughed at the
Floating symbiosis ---

Just look at its
Ducking and weaving as
Mating songbirds;
Their crestfallen melodies
Are pitched to deafen.

I  cannot forget everything
Though I try, Memory is like
Smoke wafting by
Under an olfactory perception
Of renowned experience.

This Sky ---
It remembers everything
Even as I forget
The sunsets and dawns;
The atrocities of Mans' Heaven.

And there is no God here,
No God at all, nor devils
Weeping at the gates of
Atmospheric obscurity
And cumulous justice.

For nothing here seems just,
Nor not so.

And where everything seems
Forgotten,
So nothing ever really is.


Written by PoetsRevenge
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