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.
