To collage in words, or with paper?
I dream and imagine
caught in a zone of longing
to splash mediums, textures,
instill the essence of life's poetic fire
on a blank background.
On my table, a boskiness of trees
is, with darkest leaves,
twisting across stone-wort rocks.
Mossy, dank and dappled in owl light,
the source of life hangs, elixir-like.
silver bell trees bloom above star asters
Canterius, halts motion
in a demivolte of stone
There, where hippogriffs have taken flight-
Epicamus' stand in waiting
for some distant cipher
to begin life.
A strange petalody
awaits blue flowering-paper-
shaped, painted and glued
but there is no fragrance,
no fragility, and no
I am no God.
For Frank Herrera's Practiced Passion
Collage and Visual Poetry
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2016