Pariah, Shaman

The only type that's slept on it...and woke up.

Aureole--Manna's descent like showering

wave forms.

Eyes hungering upturned, cloven in

rapture.

Mouth slants open in a salivary click--

come the incantations...come the

anatomical sway of microcosm.

Intergalactic cynosure, pariah, shaman--

mangy interloper teaching wind to dance.

To be sought out within the House of

Aquarius, haunting its foundation that

it may uphold.

The roads to and fro are as anagrams

that alter with the perceiver.

It is the second look, of what's cross

with what Is...and ever shall be--that

gives rise to disorientation...deja vu.

An incremental homecoming to a House

of none--amiss, just out of reach--inner

powers wax and wane--as our moon

pulled out to sea on a road rippling white.

Sundry incantations yearning for an

elemental symphony.

The blind nicked their eyes upon the

womb--know of this, have seen magic

firsthand, thus see no more.

Konstantinos Mark

 

Reviews

[Wolf's Dark Song]

Your words and images here are fascinating. This whole poem as a mystical feel to it. I like it. You have a lot of talent.