solemn days

breath of the solemn days

home to the silent vigils

receding

dense sun seething

bodies freezing in the heating

replete with the bleed of need

the wordless creed

fuming blood-deep

the creep and seep of

this beeping world

keeping minds buried

by conceit and release

the relief

leaks �"

each drop treacherous �"

show me what’s lecherous

and I’ll show you what’s

impetuous �"

the heat, the bone-burn

marrow radiation

perhaps the mind’s

sense of invention

or convention

or maybe even

ascension

perhaps not �"

once the flag is dropped

there is no more contention

this is a truth

in the strictest sense

of the absolute

Reviews

[Peter Joseph Swanson]

Great poem!