Untitled #3

For William Blake

a day is promised

says a Book

prophet's path

a writhing worm

on

a

hook

cast a net

but stay and look

a mountain sings

there's a running brook

horses go mad

enter

the librarian's nook

a Sunflower Sutra

CIVILIZATION TOOK

flowers grow

and

flowers cry

you never stopped to wonder why

carry the stone

an exasperated sigh

crucified in my mind

with the lonely, bitter, and unkind

to live is to die

why rise and try?

a sacred story, there's only One to find

pride of Kings?

What is the pride of a King?

it's all of this

and every other thing

Author's Note

Back on my meds. Still like this one.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

flowers do cry...but seldom when we can see them...they hide pain like we do.

Creeley wrote,

"Pain is a flower,like that one
like this one
like that one
like this one"

How much pride can there be for a King...if others suffer for his crown of thorns.
Damn those roses and their thorny soldiers protecting them.
j.

[John Sullivan]

Wise wise words. In what appears to be an inherently cruel world it can be all too easy to indulge the inner fascist, especially when contemplating morality... the newspapers tell us daily of bigotry and extremism. I've been thinking a lot about men and women, and how often men and women are pretty terrible to one another... Had a lot on the mind with this one, not sure how clear my thoughts translated, really. Always a pleasure, Jacob.