It happened fast like a riposte
I had no time to react
The winds hustled like smoke clouds
I was caught off guard, 7 a.m. shopping
I felt a farrago of feelings
Pursuing happiness, it's glacial
Flying from the escarpment
Like Jack London
Dying is a dream song from John Berryman
A sonnet from Shakespeare
I'm plunging headfirst into insanity
Everyday I'm at crossroads
Hope is all I have
The groove has been hewed with an axe
I couldn't care about the media
Life makes me laugh
I'm surviving with a makeshift solution
Asking questions, the fear is omnipresent
At the locale, I want to be elated
I've made my entry
In my boots, lost echo in the woods
The river has iced over
What else is there to do?
Many times I've seen the moon dance
The night is a hunter
With delicate hands like a sculptor
Like a Giacometti, a Jean Arp
Podolski's oeuvre
It's a Chernobyl, a Rosewell
Mysterious foible, coming undone
On the pew watching the falling acorns
The basilisk's hymn is an aphorism glowing.
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Author:
Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 16th, 2020 01:46
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 37
Offline)
Comments1
This poem assaulted me with its cornucopia of references and dazzling images. I can't make out its precise meaning but there's a strong feeling of despair and anxiety arising from what you've written. Good poem.
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