I wanted to write a love poem.

 

 

So here it is.

First Monday then Tuesday accumulated.

Can't remember much after that just

mouthfuls of pleasure and farandole,

where the men and women hold hands

through the serpentine journey.

 

 

                            Olly, olly oxen free!

 

 

and the supply of fixed stars are called

into the light, race insane with devotion.

This whole subsystem howls; the blue

pearls ride the urethra like that wild

train to Scolexville. Fluid filled as the

bladder of a lip,

 

covered, covered with the Revlon

matte of Egypt and night. I want the

dahlias the daggers of Coriolis and

consequence. Pressing out the kinky

scalps with those molting hot combs

of dew.

 

Now we just hold your wig on -

the head of Sheba - in your

scented coppice.

 

Then all will be fine again. Our love

straight as a far away lake.

Reviews

[Circe]

this traverses far and beyond.... so majestic and elemental..... collage of impressions, rich, rich descriptions.. enough to become beautiful.. one moment you soar, the next you yourself is sticking onto the images.. it really does explode the senses..... really wonderful, as always you are.

[writing mojo]

there's an aestheticism in heathenism in your love drawn through white washed halls.. my plea is do what you do in your fabric leave the thunder out side on my book shelf, and run to the near ends of the future with your wordy dervishes living in the appearance of a shell of the human who can get on your edge....thank you thank you

Dana this enriched much more deeper layers, spirit rovings, beautiful travel through the thoughts, you are a special writer. I've really enjoyed all your imagery here.
And knowledge. Beyond beautiful.

E.L.

[Emily B]

you aren't read often enough, if i were queen of the world we would all read h d e rushin every other day at least

[Tree]

First off, you couldn't of chosen a better title. It just set the whole poem up for me, set it up. Then it falls, crashing into the first stanza... Farandole? seriously? where then you proceed to artfully digress, ''Olly, olly oxen free!'' (I love trying to follow your lines of conceptualization, but it aint always easy –––but always creative, and always fun)...

I want to highlight that transition from the 3rd to the 4th stanza: Fluid filled as the /bladder of a lip, /covered, covered with the Revlon/ matte of Egypt and night.

I thought that was smooth, sublime. I liked the imagery there too, the metaphors. where You make Wal mart/Target bought lipstick and hotcombs, (the plastic and the cheap Chinese steel) ... You make it all sound somehow Earthy, natural and ancient and mythical, as Egypt?... don't know how else to explain it; except you see things through mystic/ and mythic eyes... The poet, constantly translating and filtering the world between two alchemist hands and/ ancient eyes; yeah. I'll go with that

And those last two stanza's, the end. where the transformation (now complete) signifies an end / but the Journey, the journey just begins.... "Our love/ straight as a far away lake

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"the bladder of a lip"

unique phrasing in your work...a joy to read...still accumulating thoughts on this one...will be back.