Do you ever feel as though poetry is actually writing YOU?
|Think me a thought
A thoughtless thought, one that licks sweetened edges
Of unmolded ideas and imaginations.
Thundering its way into being
Let it run to the infinite bounds of airless images.
Morph your mind into a meddling, matted mix
Of crushed pepper and take your taste to top me off
On favorites of things.
Think my thought, endless promise of weeping illusions.
Let us weave tasseled ends with open fists
Fumbling foolishly with a favored mind.
Give me sense, let’s sing it to a shout.
The sharpening of songs, a blazoned sound of chilling words
We can create out of all the thickened silence.
Calling to a wave or a rippled find.
Think me a thought, then an ending thought.
But before you let it go, hold our seeping sighs of
Such sweetened sensations, a romanticized craving to
Be drunken richly as a softened libation. And after
A continued count, just blow out our tender light
And note how it flickers with the darkness creeping in
But the reminisce of your glow lulls the unfeigned hollow
Aug 31st, 2017