deepundergroundpoetry.com
the oracle
the surreal is incurable--it might open
where i feel temporary,
where the whole world flashes
like moss learning nude verse,
and impart on the being like a festival of lanterns
at first light and now tiresome.
perhaps--i
like an oracle in the throes of ice
and the unborn veil--
try on forgetting
the drusen working under
the emaciation of the widely known
wherein under each new stone i thrive,
and the opal i’d eat out of an owl’s heart
is the freakish opulence--
a sad button of the sickness.
where i feel temporary,
where the whole world flashes
like moss learning nude verse,
and impart on the being like a festival of lanterns
at first light and now tiresome.
perhaps--i
like an oracle in the throes of ice
and the unborn veil--
try on forgetting
the drusen working under
the emaciation of the widely known
wherein under each new stone i thrive,
and the opal i’d eat out of an owl’s heart
is the freakish opulence--
a sad button of the sickness.
Published 28th Dec 2020
Author's Note
Under adult content for violent imagery.
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