Poetry

PASSING STRANGE

I will be king and you, you shall be queen

Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS on Pexels.com

Muttered words in uncounted time listen closely to your mind words decline into cant — quick, flippant, arrogant

listen! to Gregorian chants: gargoyles whisper across the centuries in silence, the stonemason’s art, a palimpsest of languages:

Latin, Norman-French, English each overtaken in time vernacular or divine. blue eyes at the funeral no coward soul is mine

Follow in her footsteps step out of line stand at the edge, again: a merry jester in rhyme

cliff path crumbles into sky birds fly the heat haze vibrations resonate, as in a sound painting, not far from me, in this dreamscape of richly tapestried cast-offs

Oblivions come and go bird song roams all over this stippled sky helping to compose a salty wind to stings my eyes as I drink hoping quietly not to wake.

Words you don’t remember, wind rising in the sky, me, bereft of fortitude, sparks will fly..

Coals flare into flame; a pettiness of heat replete: golden sands, crystal brooks, silken lines, silver hooks.

Glimpsing what’s so rarely there, I begin to mount the stairs a friend you trust implicitly, a lover you just like, a reckoning, that’s obvious, a slight rearrangement of the night.

A study of false documents, poems, you may surmise, the woman who called yesterday, Thank God! She’s still alive!

Feeling unbelievable louder, if you please, the never-ending circle, designed, I think, to tease.

The beginning of the end, my friend starting blocks too high, a moment of deep-intimacy, time passes by as lightning streaks the sky!

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