Paradise Found


The jungle of oaks, poplars, honeysuckle,
blue spruce breathes in spite of
the cascading omnipresence of kudzu
and whispers but only whispers
a universal Language.

Lake Erie lay as a blue fact
in the vast horizontal distance.
A few ungreying cottonball clouds
float without Purpose or Direction
needing to be lassoed in the baby blue sky.

It is Sunday after a goodly torrential rain.
Photosynthesis manufactures rich palatable
cubic yards of Optimism imbibed
wolfishly as if craving whipped cream
to scatter demons to the Caves.

Heavy chafing iron shackles fall from wrists
disintegrating into dusty vapor granting
Freedom to lasso the jungle, lasso the clouds,
lasso Cleveland without Purpose or Direction
and briefly know Paradise.


pjk



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Poetry by Peter J. Kautsky
Read 655 times
Written on 2007-06-07 at 00:36

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Rob Graber
May as well try to lasso Cleveland as a cottonball. I love it, both the alliteration and the imagery!

But I don't get lines 16-17. I would have thought he has just gotten out of prison, but a convict getting out wouldn't even be wearing handcuffs, let alone "chafing iron shackles," would he? Am I being way too literal here Peter?
2007-06-07