Fragments

When I perceive you, Sir, And smile, swimming in The pool of your soul, And you perceive me, And smile INTO me, Burning through The granite shell Of propriety, The spark of life Ignites, burns brighter For an instant. Please Don't ever say "Hello" to me In words. . . . . Lunatics and God Possess full knowledge Of reality; The former, intuitively, The latter, by fact. Personally, my own Version is More restful. . . . . A couple of roses, A scented candle, A hot bath, A little brandy, Clean sheets, A Friday night And silence. Sleep. That's all I ask Of life. . . . . Music  wears Insidious holes In my armor and Sorrow pours into My soul... Ah, the pain, As the leaking waters, Laden with guitar, Inflame my scars. . . . . Bark Dog!  Wind blow! Waves lap!  Come fantasy, Into the ring of my small Light, for I am ephemeral In the scheme of things, Tonight, we marry. . . . . Speech prostitutes The soul, and butchers Intimate perception. Be still, my love, And Speak To Me. . . . . Slowly, slowly turn The thoughts of Almost-always-never. His molecules strain. They birth and transpose, And scatter and merge. They cry, "NO!", and Laugh, YES!" The wind blows, The rain falls, Acid and balm, Contusions and health, Poems are written. Poets die. Slowly, slowly, turn The thoughts of God. Written December 15th, 2001 © on Dec 14 2001 04:34 PM PST, Carole Dudley   0 • 18 • 10