Imago Poems - Poems about Imago

An Image attaches itself to something you once touched or smelled sending waves echoing inward. You forgot about it yet now it twists itself around a memory one you had never thought to name. Behind your eyes your mind is an apparition. This thing you see is perceived through fathoms of awakening flesh, it returns now to catch fire from fire. You search an emerging...

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An Image attaches itself to something you once touched or smelled sends waves echoing inward. You forgot about it yet now it weaves itself around a memory that you had not named – a singular erotic weaving that brings its own enticing musk. Then there is this full-throated flowering a bitter-sweet interior presence. Behind your eyes mind is only an apparition but this thing you see is perceived...

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THE BEGANNING SEEMED FUZZY THE WORDS WERE DIRECTED AT ACHHEIVING SOMETHING AGAINST THE WISHES OF THOSE WHO OPPOSSED IT'S CREATION. CLEAR AND DIRECT TO THE PIONT IN SOME AREA'S AND LESSER FOCUSED ON BEING SIMPLE AND PRECISE. IT LACKS FOCUS: AND REFUSES TO COMMENT THE BEGANNING. tHE VERSE IS COMPLICATED BY THOSE WHO REFUSE TO UNDERSTAND. IN THE AGREEMENT THAT WORDS RHYMN, AND CAUSE...

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If leaden skies above you, responsive As brass, are mocking your anguish’d heart cries, Repulsing all resolution efforts; Your angels holiday, while Father God Seems distracted -- higher priorities Eclipsing yours – Would this be the reason You sit stranded on this park bench broken Beside the path you once sojourn’d upon? I know that He sent me to offer hope. A savior...

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The picture was precious. The infantilism made one breathless. The pupa indolence was exquisite in form. I watched those transmogrifications transform. Diamonds in the ruff would bring the monarch prosperity. The rarities of their beauty confound. The eyes behold profoundly. Their wings formed from the cocoon. The pupa stage is now devoured. One day it will become more than just a flight. They will develop...

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Sometimes in Virginia when the scorching madness of xenophobia conspires with a fragile, violent countenance, I fall to the darkest, bitter poison. And in that carnage, a nation learns of impending destruction. But the sounds of heaven like an unstoppable flood, poor over New Orleans and comfort forlorn victims of embedded justice. I am men, putting women in...

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