Wanderer yet of my first lighthouse the eternal shining darkness

Wanderer yet of my first lighthouse the eternal shining darkness,
Of the pupil candlestick flicker of light your serene turbulent skin,
Still in place in place the same place let basil rise from aerial roots,
From card game read in a pail by a blind fortune-teller seer.
Who chilled me with her thought of statesman without majestic power,
Not too big not too small good to put there chic in arranged disorder,
Two palms long of wide below navel of corrected correct integuments,
Feelings slow as frozen lightning slight erythema without frightful shiver.
Of my patent hidden loves perpetual mobile repeated stopped,
Your lighthouses blind with black light in the candlestick pupil that sees blindness,
The basil rises burying itself in place without motion that runs forever,
The blind fortune-teller reads the past future in the unwritten books of fate.
The statesman without state rules the lost empire of full nothingness,
The wide narrow palms measure the distance between near and never,
The corrected integuments are perfect in their healthy imperfection,
The shiver-less erythema burns my skin with warm cold emotional ice.
Your serene skin storms my calm in the ordered chaos of the body,
Flicker of dark light ignites the shadows that illuminate my night,
The card game guessed wrong reveals the lie truth of our fate,
The repeated loves perpetually stop in their static dynamic motion.
Wandering in place I travel motionless through the fixed universe of your drift,
Your blind lighthouses show me the lost path toward nowhere precisely everything,
In the cosmic navel of the immense small I plant the basil that dies-alive,
I am the extinguished lit candlestick in the luminous darkness of your solar pupil.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

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