Saturday, August 13, 2016

The Meaning of Light - I finally finished writing this one. It took me for ever, lots of interruptions


Puerto Rico, Bioluminescent  bay in Viequez


The Meaning of Light


The beast drinks water from the shallows
while the blossom sleeps where death awaits
on unavoidable nights. It translates voices
that it does not understand, and hopes to ask
about desire. Its deciphered imprints follow
the course of a scented field, it’s going
to overwhelm the printed hands
that rise above it blindly — created
to misguide. Trees will be the waves and boats
of fireflies setting sail in view of wind,
symphonic seeds navigate to other lands.
A storm plants death ruins on the plains.
After the time of bones, new grass grows,
a cloak of fear and loneliness waits in twilight
dimensions. A man blinded by rennet
in streaming light bites his rage, chews
the curd of false expectations, rates
desert paths. He does not stop offering
dilapidated visions, the challenge
of kissing gannets in an empty sea.

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