(in)Verse



were the days to all inverse
(there in liquefied honey-combed chambers)
spreading Night's dreaming raven sea-wings
o'er fleeting tides of hungry breaths
withdrawn and given back again
to the source of all light,
reversal of eyes in that Seeing
the well of your wish and it's being
what the random waves rehearse
were the days to all inverse bespoke
The burning wheel spins a while yet
casting it's burdens of straw in the fire
that is a fitful sea writhing
like a luminous loom
hanging lamp like from Night's
millennial skies,
Screeling soul wrenching notes in codes
written in obverse symbols
of lost worlds imprisoned by dreams
(close your lips to mine, our secret)
the burning wheel spins a while, yet...




Poetry by Charles Lezine
Read 700 times
Written on 2012-05-28 at 00:55

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