Sunday, June 24, 2018

Solmar Verses II

Or could it be what's on the
Other side of the wall
Is what was re-enacted?

The voices were no more
Than gusts in caves,
Secreted to alphabets.

Experience at a distance
Led to assumptions
Of what is:

The golden seaweed braids
That lured me out before
Generalized to amber,

So the echo spray,
The batter-spreading surf,
The spatter that persists inside the ear

Were moving hands,
Imploring eyes,
Phonetic lips:

Powders for the painter
To render the transparent
Boundaries of his world

And find a face
In the edge of wind
Distinct from the air,

It moves at a remove
From the sea
As from me,

Seemingly asking to be caught
In flagrant delecti, the naked,
What is not.