![]() Visions of ZosimosA Poem by Samuel Ferris![]() not finished![]() The hard taste of fermented grain, "is a pleasure like death", rasped the old man by the river as he drops his line through the circle, cut ice: "Serrated and certain, as tullips and spring" Said the old fisherman; a quiet, calm, dialectic.
It was a night of crisp, cold air. The winterly smell of pines hanging on every distant windowsill. As he reels his line, and sips his whiskey: "By the cool waters of our river, let us hold up our bodies in celebration. Dies Natalis Solis Invicti 1. Let us pray as we sit, severing, slowly the moment from the memory";
Over the waters his whispers carry, to the darkest corners of my room, lighting the migration of hands and lips..... and empty Spirits. I knelt, praying to the god of Hips. to see the universe resting in one.
To cast my body amongst the sea of mouths, and feet. 5. My devotion aching at the end of Seasons to be cast into the fire of the art 3. and with the light of a thousand suns become 5. nothing.
© 2010 Samuel FerrisAuthor's Note
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Added on August 9, 2009Last Updated on February 13, 2010 Author![]() Samuel FerrisRochester, NYAboutI enjoy reading and writing, playing guitar, piano, and composing music. I enjoy reading the poetry of Seamus Heaney, TS elliot, William Carlos Williams, EE Cummings, Lorca, pablo neruda, emily dicke.. more..Writing
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