An Empty Search
As I lay on mound of grassland,
weightless in eyes’ astounded spirit
blending with angels, dirt, and
crosses; and to bear this emptiness
in writhing streams omnipresent
for day and twilight’s heavy
float--- my soul changes beyond
primitive instincts---a landscape
of bittersweet cycles appear,
and below it, the fluidity
from incandescent waters lap on
mouths of stars requesting patience.
Here am i sprouting below, above
and under their flesh; fulfilling
my need for deliverance out of some
needled pinch, awash by gush of rain
seeking a depth of quiet within myself,
and nothing came except a leaf falling.
Dark Contest for Charlotte Puddifoot
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