Babble

I’m making too much of you; I’m constructing of you a temple

where I can lay in supplication

on the rushes of your presence

 

I’m caught up in your hymns, cabal mythology

humming along

twisting in half-explained memories

of Tennessee skies and Berkeley nights

 

I’m having a hard time letting go

 

Holy Spirit, ambulatory now, while I wish to speak in tongues

in a way you’ll understand

the Babble of my mind

in the brothel of my will

 

I’m having a hard time letting go

 

I would scrawl for you any nature

any existence

… build for you a mystery

where I wouldn’t burn

when I discovered

 

your eyes on me

 

Reviews

[Raef C. Boylan]

I still like the contrast between the poetical displays and the simple fact -
"your eyes are green".

Love/lust/obsession etc transforms the smallest details into an epic dream.
Good work. How've you been?

[Raef C. Boylan]

You like green? You don't like green? Hmm...

Just kidding, I guess that's not the part to focus on. You've made use of some fantastic images; the overall hyperbole of this really hits home how overwhelmed your narrator is by his subject. Melodrama that, the heart and mind convinces us, is minus the 'melo'.

Great work.
Sorry I've got nothing constructive.

[J.P. Bristow]

fantastic write....you paint well.

[Gandré]

your best poem ever. loved it. fav.

[Emily B]

I came and read a while back but somehow skipped out without leaving any trace. . .
these words are worth reading again and again.

[Ed Hart]

the last line is worth two bookfulls and a ten pound note...great stuff...