A Crumbled Stanza
It is here.
It is now.
It is
Because
These tantric dialects
Come
Undone
I taste the solstice of gray.
Foggy, silver-lined showers
Replenishment against elasticity's incomplete verb
Through whistling meadows of Nature’s morn
Incredulous smiles become born
Again
The muse in my a-muse-ment
Becomes paraphrased, violet-tinted charm
This unadulterated verbiage
Preparing moistened breaths
Into crux of night
Surrendering chain-link grips of consonants & vowels
Releasing her Egyptian cotton tethers
Tonight
On elegant waterfall
Tonight
Her blossomed fingernails
Digging whispered trenches against my back
Will speak louder
Tonight
Than syllabic vice
©Drake J. Eszes
Copyright © Poet Tacito | Year Posted 2013
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