Fundament Princeps Poetica #4


Clouds aloud to deaf

my dreams of silent streams,

'til leaves are darkened

by the night through green

remains to merge the light
in patterns 'round and

long in the way of shadows

made in glades of forests

stormed by season and by

eyes

inside the passions

(far-off ululations of

tongue & throat)

in the deeper reaches of the trees,

to find the unfound lost and

we are the weather in our song

and we are the feather floated

and gone---and we are the furtherest

from the farthest shore 'til

star and swollen wave must touch

in all of the undulations of the

light-stretched, time-worn sea,

and we are the gossamers:

those feather-flecks

forever rising up and down

and the down is the dawn

on the knees of all water

slaughtered by the sun's

burning blaze in the Furance-Of-All-Days

for which night is All-The-Smoke

and together we know them well.

To tell the Story they have Told

to every passing cloud and REPEAT

THIS STANZA OVER AND OVER

FOReverMORE until??



YOU ARE THE UNSAID SPOKEN WHEEL

forEVERmore TURNING SOUNDLESSLY

among many stars creaking.  Then

you'll know the poembrousness and

the poembessa of poembetical love,

OR THE FORCE OF ONE SNOWFLAKE

EXPLODING ON CONTACT WITH ANOTHER

SNOWFLAKE and which is just why

so many marriages fail and as many

do not and this is called

THE MYSTERY WITH NO CONFUSION IN IT

(or the tie that no longer binds,

or the freedom-terror, &tc.; &tc.;

                            &

            THE HOPE ETERNAL.


- Michael Warren Eliseuson