Helios and Eos.

Part 1:

The sermon begins. As promised the pale nostalgia

Has wet the streets and shy cobwebs move along the velvet coffins

That holds within them the dead bodies on the fringe of music.

Swallowed up by the sun and torn by the iron air and with a streak of hope

The bronze heart softens its grip.

Made of sun and sap; A wedding on the day that brings the first outings

Of flesh and bone and we raise our youth with sunlight

 Formed like a singing dove.

We have found love in God.

The bark that twilight kisses.

I have seen Christ in all shapes.

Circles flush out the self and through the lining of triangles

Finds itself again.

Marble cities crumble and the muse rises like a hymn of nature.

The lion in mourning. O Leo Nemeaeus!

The bawdy mouthpiece that shatters like gold

Into the colossus with lips of created joy!

The festivities continue in the opal light and

With cheeks of burning love fires the curious

Oracle to the pithy sound of history.

Curiosities? Who

Has an empire on their tongue?

The fluted sonnets in pools of sand, sinking ever deeper into the ruined nights

That occupies some fascination with polished shadows.

And in certain light you can see yourself fully grown;

Picking cherries from the womb of Aphrodite

And bodies becoming one.

Part II.

Cybele I have touched your sweet breast and licked your n*****s

Which laid waste to fire and flowers and yet the warm blooded

Mare walking on the waters of Jerusalem

Sits like a gargoyle waiting to be stoned.

O in the image of pan, daughters of courage

Who travel in pairs fluent in feather’d language

Turn mankind’s faith to fortune.  

O Lord and mercy trembling like hooves in snow.

You carry the footprints in hands made of nests

And birds flap out in search of a kill.

Because God was love I was capable of more knowledge

And in a twittering storm I embraced the slow fruits on

The foam blood trees. A horse with wings seaward

In a symphony of sighs says to me: The great truth is love.

And bedded in the rocks are cherubs waiting and proud

Hovering over the goddesses whose virgin skin melts the rocks

Into a chariot of flesh.

Ride! Ride into the arena cut like ice.

Part III.

Great king of the dogs; chained to the fountain of wine

And panting in the heat of the white sun, do we glimpse your teeth

That glistens’ in the morning eye?

Breeding like lascivious sunlight, covering the veneer of the earth

In books bound by the command of wishful afternoons.

We read by the glow of man and offer Neptune’s dawn as a dower.

Reviews

[R.J Calzonetti (Siniste..]

I loved it, I don't have much to say. I feel like I've lost my muse, but it has been a long time since I have read such a beautiful poem, something I always seem to see from you. It makes me feel a little better, inspires the mind. As always, thank you for sharing.

[Betty Hermelee]

This is quite complex and written so voraciously, using strong words in this sermon. I admire your ability to write something like this. unfortunately, I do not understand much of it and I am not one for sermons, But I applaud your exquisite work. Best, Betty