Another Man Transits Through Perpetration

Lifted, the veil protests only a little, like it might when ruffled
by a wind. And her hands, her activity, her industry, and her
body become instantly more desirable.

There is something about my lifted arm, my stretch across
a room to the leisure of her warmth, the murmurs, and her
luminous eyes, making wishes.

Who would not want to hold her, who would not want to
lay in her dream, and experience the melting of candles,
while searching her vocabulary for answers.

But I am only an animal propelled by the dark urge of
monarchy, the implementing of tools, the howl of death
and its anguish, who am I to be satisfied with beauty?

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7 responses to “Another Man Transits Through Perpetration

  1. Sadly beautiful. I love it. I’ve been told that the veil being lifted by another always makes the beauty more desirable. The third and fourth stanzas are right on.

  2. I like this one so much I am going to cut it out and pin it on my notice-board.

  3. Julie – I like sadly beautiful…don’t know why, I just do…Thanks for coming and for your ongoing support…Peace.

    Sack Posset – Careful where you put the pin…Thanks…

  4. This is really interesting in its layers – the implication of the “otherness” of the veiled one – an oddity and rarity – in contrast to the speaker’s primordial animalness. The title, too, with its use of “another” and “perpetration”, adds another layer. Sadly beautiful, yes. Very male and very, very intriguing.

  5. Karen – I once read, and I thought it seemed true, that when one is confronted with exquisite beauty, that somewhere in our awe of it, is the experience of terror…so yes, there are layers…and veils, and yearnings…Thanks for coming…and for commenting.

  6. Wow.

    You already know you’re skilled at this, but for me, it’s like sometimes reading you is seeomg old, archaic meanings, too familiar fairytales, and having you compose the elements so they live again. The setting is familiar, even the language in the beginning seems to make my mind ready to dismiss this as something I’ve heard before, but you manage to make the old rust… not disappear so much as meld and glow so the eye is drawn to that meaning that’s always been there, and suddenly there is some responsive understanding.

  7. amuirin – Thank You, what can I say, I try. Perhaps part of what you reveal with your comment is a weakness in my poetry…maybe others are just not so adept at digging into my poems deeper meanings…preferring to judge that the poems surface meaning is old fashioned and out of date…OH My…hope not…for then I am doomed…maybe I am doomed in any case.

    …as an old man of 52, I have had the distinct pleasure of speaking to real old timers – those who grew up in horse and buggy times, those who remember what it was like to have to work the land with bare hands…and I think that they were somehow different, a bit more grounded in history.

    Now, most of us are living in the “Modern World” and we are influenced by the wider ramifications of history, but we don’t have enough connection to the oracles of the past, those who might help us to make sense of the semi silent metaphors driving us, and hence we are at somewhat of a loss for how to live, or for an explanation for how we may have come to the decisions we have come to…

    Thank You Again

    Poet Man

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