Syntax
Words.
They rattle my soul this mourning,
This slim redemptive moment held with in the hands
Of the clock – that lesser god who rankles low the
The vibration of the street; the movement
Of the sheets entwined around my ankles;
I sense the morning brew,
Seraphim dance around my nostrils;
My eyelids, screens of twin rainbow dreams,
The fluid of last night’s dreams has slowed
To level out my desire, for now.
God has banished all illusion,
All sin. All schemes – this moment,
Oh, brother how I breathe,
It stills my swirling soul’s articulation,
Words,
Syntax,
Clarity…
They can each have this day,
They billet back moments true and bright and
Vivid –
Their sense of placement drives a nail deep
Within my awareness…
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