You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Joseph Joubert

Monday, April 6, 2009

A handsome return

Like melting impressions
thick in the air I breathe
as I held against the roof balustrades

My atelier has saved lead-powder
Bottle of polluted tears
a pair of rulers to scale the iceberg
and incense for a dead martyr

There is a painter
who has thrust nobility in reflections
that reflections can stare patiently
till men wear realization.

The spread underneath my fancy
where baboons copulate
evening is cheating notes
beneath the winter desk.

For oil and colour
He has clipped his staple,
Played the mandolin at silver coast
No one heard is music, not even food.

Summoned him in oriental dreams
Where butterflies wear makeup
And bees are built of honey.

None, but a blank within
Which he had to fill
With fruits and sweets
Peek-a-boo in a lead jungle

And then the dark sockets
Stars smashed by disorder
Landscape burnt like a piece of paper
And bullet-gems here and there

He admit his life like a joke
No one did laugh at his grandeur
He has made all animals of his ash
An ecclesiastical geometry…

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