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Fangs | Poem


 
 
 

Fangs 


The picture you hold in some

Far corner of a fiefdom not yet

Reached (a place where

Sinuosity stalks with the grace

Of your outstretched calf and

Strikes with the repeated

Forked breath of beseeching

Lightning) questions the arts

Of power as conquest; the snarl

As touch-me-not, the litheness

As invitation to admire come

To naught at the corners of your

Lips, where the clear desire is all

To be encased in another skin,

Holding taut to yourself as one

With the imagined rider, catamount

To every undestroyed dream.
 

- David W. Mitchell
 

to David   / to Moongate

.

 
 
 


Take the Motherbird tour bus:
Untitled | Poem
Into the Blue Samsara | Poem
Icuras (Greek mythology flown to close to the sun) | Poem
The Triumph of Neo-Racism | Poem
Original Paintings | Poem
The noose tightens | Poem
Poetry : Crash of Autumn Resplendent | Poem
Prometheus: the autobiography - book review | Poem
Children of the Day | Poem
Question for Sylvia Browne | Poem

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