lilies of the August vessel.

lilies of the August vessel.

A Poem by h d e rushin
"

My knee is swolen. I took a Vicadin.

"

 

 

 

Lilies are so free, stylized, rhythmic music.

Hip Hop or hiss, excitable as a cloud of furry lights.

 

This is a poem of tears, not of the flowers sarcenet or

their quilt of seeds. Nothing sings as soft as rain.

 

Intrusive arm of the field; white as bone,

the needle of the sun or moon.

 

The eyeball of the cave, intrepid. Intrinsic as

the jungle cat. Lysis from the millwood fever.

 

No one can tell us apart. My edges are your edges.

My coves, yours. We both adore the relishable sunshine.

 

Ash, who could tell, was so pleasing to wood.

The trees wear their sashes as an honorary order.

 

Already the sargasso bodies float by.Someother afternoon

I shall spread my knees apart, distempered as a human fish,

 

but wanting to hold hands like an old man. Someone

in a large boat catch me. Allow me to flop against

 

the bulkhead or on the shore of shells.But not in the cooler

with the others.I am so afraid of the violence.

© 2012 h d e rushin


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Phenomenal. You are a truly magnificent and esoteric writer, there were too many wonders here to pick out one or two and praise them for their solidarity, so i'll just let you know that I enjoyed this as a whole. More than that, i'm enamored by it, and the bearing of that weathered, beautiful soul you have. I'm so excited to have found your work, I needed a refreshing change from (as you so candidly put it) 'flowery metaphors.' :)

Posted 12 Years Ago


These are words that Whitman would love to meet, I can imagine how he would survey them. Curious and excited about the new language.

Stop this day and night with me, and you shall possess the origin of all poems;
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun—(there are millions of suns left;)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books;
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me:
You shall listen to all sides, and filter them from yourself.

Posted 12 Years Ago



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Added on August 7, 2012
Last Updated on August 7, 2012

Author

h d e rushin
h d e rushin

detroit, MI



About
black american poet living in detroit. more..

Writing
Short- Short-

A Poem by h d e rushin



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