wordswordswords

I

Gathered easily and wholly satisfying
     before the visionary looks about.

Decorous words hang
     upon the branch so
          the creative plunge inwards.

Look about now promising words  
     jangle on every twig in sight.
          All directions gleam the same.

Now the artist's work begins.
     That dread violation of silence.

II

There is a story that leads up to this point.
A snake at the bottom of a well
looking up at one star. 
Every slave knows there is more than one star.
Carry your tragedy of when two seasons meet
do not dare relate it.
Will they thank you for helping
the sun down into the sea?

III

Via mutual glances inspired 
     seers and garden birds swap places.

Berries that nourish and that poison
     rot on the ground we alike feel destined for.

Our pain states that taking wing 
     lost to the flock may be going too far.

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The Man Who Made The Titanic ►

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