Anacoluthon Knights
i can never tell you how displeased readers
are by that position the singular
moment when nothing makes any sense
to them at all but only to a few brilliant pebbles
that soar across the night canvas unknown
to the dullards of academia
it is the ONLY reason
i write; to express self to those very few
who HEAR ME.
the rest are noise and there is no
time for wasting one's artistry on rigid brains
and stiff necked human-geese.
Then again, my imagination never demands
an audience of understanding but more
of an emotional receptivity.
A slumbering shadowy cloud-vignette
seeping from a tormented mind onto
freshly sliced paper cuts.
This is the color red screaming in a dying ink stroke.
All inside of me is all i have. The 'be careful' took
leave upon wings last dreaming evening of reprieve |
a mind wondering if wondering is real
to show me is love if upon the wind of life and how
is lovely sitting upon a window sill while being
productive (at the sink doing dishes)
if more is heavier than thought
then more is the anchor of all tears
/to tell do please : what imagination never demands
-- that audience of understanding.
just tears.
:: 01.02.2022 ::
Copyright © Ernest Robles | Year Posted 2022
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