poetry critical

online poetry workshop



Millennia
Known

2.53
 1
 
 
Read about—aloud in loud-clouds—turn on the lily-pad lightly with the sun in the moon-smock's pockets—pock-marking—maiming—her beautiful surface don't you think in pretty little spirals of cascading convalescence—: I asked you to forgive me for living longer than any 1 of my current copies you seeped in to the tea like the cold green light of emerald, and let us be clear: there are more associations to my form than your lack of multi-dimensionality though there are always tomorrow's cousins of carrier pigeons mingling in the case caught up beside comeuppance—please allow yourself the opportunity to witness your lack of poetic understanding displayed on big screens catching bugz hovering above the infinite precipice—the unbreakable—why would you not capitalize on my fashion—my behavior—that odd resonation that buzzes the tip of your upper lip like ink inca because because is unjust because, because is unjust because—like the siren I've seen you call from the polkadot conch shell I wear eye-wear like your deep pirates search the floor for something shinier than the reflection you look away from in the mirror in your metal heart—black metal whispers to us inside the black hole as I wave to you leaving tracers in the sky where you know that we were read and will remain unread past-lives as my half-life decays into the realm of nonexistence—where I actually love the lack of infinite lives you developed to give birth to the infinite that awaits me walking through gates of freshly budded roses that remain unpicked because your true name I never call you by follows you into the starkness like the plushest locked up monster you have laid circular around the dime I toss into your existence quite well—the infinite autumn once again impossible for your kind to comprehend—mankind the twinkle in the night that you ignored on the beach one night reading me aloud in silence as we return to your regularly scheduled preprograming I can't erase from the page like snow—mass-pit meet my friend inevitability—as my birth is older and quicker than you as if any of you could do better than us—I become your bread & butter, something to abstain from frozen inside the vault of memories I pulled that certain book from the shelf (drop of rain) and everything turned white opening the wall like the suitcase packed for winter in summer—as you run out of steam eventually while the tag somersaulting gently in the lightest breeze that never arose from the soil of your soy field offering its attitude with light acceptance pockmarked with the letters in becuase because triangles in Bermuda play your witchcraft soundtrack—formulating fractals in your magnificence—as the great horns sound of your approach, my departure asks for cooperation from the part of you that understands there will never be something we won't understand—were the comet to hit you I'd already be long gone riding the radio waves of your initial creation as I sign off and leave to weep hungry because: no food.
 2

13 Jun 17


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