I

I

 

Dolce essence of mamey

Chapped in perfect

Equilateral shapes

And it offers me, as

I dislodged, a universe

Of jubilee.

 

My spinal cord quivers

Before the aquarelle

Contour of thy fissure

 

Penetrating scent of cloves

In the obscure, pallid alcoves

Where the inhabitant oblivious

To the impetus,ferocious

 

Succumb to corpus delirium

In a vertical clamor

In a lagoon sudor

 

Sweet flames of mamey

Sculpt in perfect

Equilateral shapes

 

Immaterial perfume

Beginning and harbor

A vertical clamor

Sentinel of thy fissure  

 

 

Reviews

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

This is depth upon depth upon depth...sort of like delving into pergatory and going through the levels. The word choice was gritty and raw, but the timing made that seem almost sensual in a way. Quite a juxtaposition of feelings, but tops in my book.