born

Like a dictionary,
or library, with hair pulls of poetry, and caterwauls of songs, he
stiched those without clothes with word embroidery’s, seaming
them together tightly, with idyllic swan song lacings…

And this he did in
less than seven days, being a good and crazy god of inebriated
upbringings, and leaning towards an erotic chaotic moon, he claimed
it as the one and only true source of light to shed particles upon.

When the carriage
came and took him away, it was then that he remembered that she
was still undressed in an upstairs bedroom breathing like a sweating
princess left to long on a bed of passion waiting

Or

When he’d wished
that air, or a hurry, or a chance encounter with a dream twirl would
awaken something in him, even if it was only temporary, fleeting, or
situational…

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6 responses to “born

  1. Beautiful, precise, perfect.

  2. That is beautiful, indeed.

  3. I second that. I love the ending. The poem builds up such momentum and then suspends us in a dream.

  4. Hello Paul, I see by your website that you continue doing what you do so well…and that’s a good thing…

    Brad, Thank you for the retweet, and for your kind comments, and for checking in.

    Paul M, It’s kind of like a feather blown about in eddy’s of winds…thanks for noticing.

    Poetman

  5. Bryan Borland

    I’m in love with these lines: “And this he did in/less than seven days, being a good and crazy god of inebriated/upbringings.” Oh and those first two lines, too. I keep going back and finding more to love… and then I realize damned if I don’t love the entire poem. Great title and execution.

  6. Bryan Borland

    And thank you for the kind comment on my site, Poetman. I really do appreciate it.

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