Wednesday, October 11, 2017

the girl who dreamt of the exploding sun


the girl who dreamt of
the exploding sun
regards her moon
in a temper of mutation
and solitude,
singing about
a day or two not
long ago when
love's lifting wing
left her on a
diver's ledge

a wail to the stars
has caused her temporary
blindness, so she
bleeds from her eyes
until the salt in them
returns in a melancholy
flow down onto her
hands, her lap, the floor
and she is finally
ready to tell
me her dream,
which woke her last night

the sun - she explained -
rose high and stayed
fast when she ventured
outside: this cyclopean
orb hanging above the earth,
the size of immortality
and flaming in
its cradle, the sky,
like an accused child;
bristling and arresting
the air and scattering
all of god's shadows

but then, she said, in
that posture, in a
bloated cast, the
sun broke into a
thousands smaller suns
and tore across the
horizons and into the
orbits of all the stars
and held in their visages
the expression of eve on
the day she first loved adam

i am apt to think
she had dreamt the
dream of the resonant
goddess, who comes to
us in our most unarmed
state, tripping among
our gardens of dim light
and through our crops of
bright darkness and who
murmurs above the
husks of our delirious dreams,
'play, play, play!'

the girl who dreamt
of the exploding sun
is an heir to a pale heart
and a desolate amber moon,
a girl who must ever
be on guard for
the breaking tide
upon a spent shore,
and whose own love
is drowned in
the oaths of riddles

i would tell her this,
then, about her
thousand small suns:
smile up to them
in their fine orbits;
gather their rays
in porcelain palms;
sip them from the cups
of green blades of grass;
leap up and
pluck at them as you would
pluck at the strings of
an alabaster harp

for you know not
when they will
wind down their own
days, pass on from your
threshold and become cold
comets colliding with each other
until they've turned into the
dust of ages,
never to radiate down
upon you again

that is the nature of your
lovers' hearts, then

always

my friend

Related Posts:

  • my weakest causei once thought that this is what i deserve: this caustic imbalance this toxic enfolding fear; but my weakest cause these days has eroded the tissue surrounding the head, finally so i let the collapse begin, having hope that… Read More
  • i'm ok, daughter i'm ok, daughter on my shoulders rests the weight while i wait for your fire to burn the world down i sit in our kitchen looking out onto a march afternoon enlightened by sun but weaker without you here you are at schoo… Read More
  • ungirl i'd have you raised up to the height of your truth; elevated above the assured counterfeit of lesser minds, who chance against the atomic weight of your best self. you are picturesque you are positive self-proof you are a… Read More
  • sonnet for the bird with the hollow songi care no more for your enthralling song your recitals i refuse to attend those once-beloved lyrics now all but gone with that performance, i cannot pretend i am left more cautious since i have heard your siren sound temptin… Read More
  • sleep in her shade i missed the shaded tones of all those you've held to your sleeping breast. i'm too small for the conscience of time to know any better i suppose; to see that the consumption of the curious, calm breath of loved ones is … Read More

0 comments:

Post a Comment