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Rapid Onset

September 18, 2012

Ever enarmored, the acting type

syncs down with an instant

comfort so alien as to be subtle,

so subtle as to be alien.

 

Cherubim eyes rest around

the evening’s corner knowingly:

we subtly chose; we turn –

the wind catches our wills in billows,

carries us about on whims

as natural as life,

unbidden as a dream;

overnight but not forgotten.

 

Alas, the lofty current drifts,

running yon with my fancy,

leaving me to tread impatience,

waiting for the land I know shall come:

 

Emerald islets circum the wells:

her flowered vases of depth.

Ah, how to say –

She was grown, not built:

there is nothing to deconstruct.

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From → Poetry

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