deepundergroundpoetry.com

fragmented no. 8

1.
… from now on, a reshuffling of diction,
word-acrobatics, perspectives gleaming
with thought: somebody built an orange tree
against the other things around it, to devour
boiled eggs in the porcelain hand of a plate,
the convulsions of the world can only go
a short length, it’s a matter of …

… regression, like tumbling downstream
over the backs of boulders …
 
2.
… near the end of his journey the man’s voice,
as dull as ashes, a cracked seed ready to burst,
declining through the dark, a short distance
to a wintry end: traveling alone to the bottom,
sound of his dusty age drawing in the earth
lying at the edge of bones: today, the light,
tomorrow the ledge: think lightning fast …

… his affliction is not pain but death: cold
at his feet, like frail children ...

3.
… even in the icy spring of March, your eyes
were the stars melting lingering snow: we lay
buried in the warm blood of naked bodies, like
refugees in a new land, and the wind that did
not reach us, and the ice that could not find us:
outside, the silent streets could hear thunder
beneath our blanket …

… ask me where she is, the one who ignored
my heart, who was gone by summer ...

===========================================

from my unpublished manuscript: Fragmented

first published in Record Magazine

©dah / dahlusion 2019 all rights reserved
Written by dahlusion
Published
Author's Note
life as inspiration
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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