Tag Archives: poet
Dylan Thomas falls from his barstool in Heaven— God, tending bar, picks him up, turns to Job—Who am I to judge? Advertisements
It was his mantra– Hurry slowly, syllables resigned to vigil.
Of myself and stars, he sang in forked, unsigned tongues– Words his place-holder.
Budding sorceress, basking in a siege of text– long shadows at dusk.
One of those days, sun bathing in elliptical gold– No clouds to obscure.
Vigilant tracking, she stalks life in wary frets– Caution testing fire.
Between passages, the molten birth of Lyric– In labor, she chastens.
Gauging twilight’s depths, the poet draws blinds to dream– Hope, worn to silence.
Seer by disorder, verses raised from a cauldron– the rebirth of cool.
Consort of angels, intimacies unfettered– split man between worlds.