posted on May 5, 2013 at 9:17 pm
flim flam man

flim flam man

 

the bees are gone carrying the gardens cargo

i feel something divine in stillness almost unattainable

form melts then into implication

that moment you are far flung and flying

over the meadows and forests and cities

where freshwater streams run through banks of white sand

children on bicycles galloping by

giddy as they zoom past plaza and hillock

whirled as theyre hurled down whorls of early traffic

gasping in the crispness of altitudes dark

the suffocating twist in nest of a mudlark

i lock on to a point in the fallen down sky

as a million points of eagles go screaming by

still alive

 

7 Responses to “flyer”

  1. avatar
    Kohl Ette | 5 May 2013 at 10:21 pm #

    SPOT
    On this perfectly weathered day
    I cry for the beauty not sustained by this world
    I cry for this world not sustained by beauty
    I cry for the unsustainable beauty of the world
    the world that beauty can’t sustain
    or contain
    the ineffable beauty
    the remains of the day
    the realisation of why greater proximity
    made painful and became ‘impossibility’
    the wonderful wanton
    unwanted selfdestruction
    and restful resurrection
    wresting further restlessness
    like fledglings in the nest
    so cursed so cursive
    no blessed
    so blessed

  2. avatar
    zOOmz | 6 May 2013 at 4:29 am #

    enjoyed the feeling of your poem in my head. 🙂 Thanks!
    zOOmz

  3. avatar
    Verdelay | 6 May 2013 at 7:00 am #

    Nineveh is in the news again today. Something about a garden, a confusion of kings, mortal enemies, the passage of millennia, and the re-writing of history. You know, I read all of this and just thought of you.

    V

  4. avatar
    david | 6 May 2013 at 9:49 am #

    …we just wanted to tell you we love you .

  5. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 May 2013 at 9:52 pm #

    look up ma – no hands!

  6. avatar
    Cocoamo | 6 May 2013 at 10:56 pm #

    It must be quite magical, traveling about in the vast landscapes of your mind. Brilliant shafts of luminescense juxtaposed by dark pits of dispair, and every nuance inbetween. But never, ever boring.

    Your Friend in the distant green hills of Pennsylvania

  7. avatar
    Polaris | 7 May 2013 at 12:21 am #

    I’m compelled to chime in (no surprise). Luv to see-or imagine-where you draw inspiration from…as in past, present, future flyer miles. New terms are [gleaned] through your poetry!


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