Infinity

Infinity

The backs of eyelids pursue an
ever-falling wisdom of dark on
dark. Black spirals wind and even
Genius struggles to form a 
meaning from the dizzy shades of
black and light— 
or is it only Genius who tries?—
These gasping eyelids pursue
illumination even in the
shallow tides, the lucid sides,
to discover:
Only infinity stretches, dawdling, 
within each cell of
Day’s loyal lovers. 

Spring

Hey there.

Spring

BY EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY

To what purpose, April, do you return again?

Beauty is not enough.

You can no longer quiet me with the redness

Of little leaves opening stickily.

I know what I know.

The sun is hot on my neck as I observe

The spikes of the crocus.

The smell of the earth is good.

It is apparent that there is no death.

But what does that signify?

Not only under ground are the brains of men

Eaten by maggots.

Life in itself

Is nothing,

An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.

It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,

April

Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

Spring

By Sharon Landstrom (me)

 

Thank you, April, for returning again.

Beauty is enough.

Your plethora of lively flowers and trees

Quiets my heart easily.

I know what I know.

The water is cool on my back as I listen

To the cadence of the waterfall.

The susurrus wind feels good.

It is the ripple of life on my skin.

For how long have I been sitting here?

Lost under the sun We are together,

Separated only be leisurely love.

Life in itself

Is everything,

Diaphanous sky, fresh sigh of light after a long winter.

It is enough that yearly, from the rain,

April

Comes crying out flowers, laughing eloquence with death.  

Mourning Snow

 

Lay your smile upon mine

because I need to feel you

Here.

I’ll give you my breath

when you are running out of

Air.

 

Embrace my silence

as the snow jumps around you,

driven through crisp air

like broken glass through

iceberg blue tears.

 

Follow my voice,

the impact of desire

shoots through your veins

like remote energy that

falls from stars in space.

 

In the space of morning

stars dance through my eyes,

crumble in your broken

embrace. I’ll trace your tears

with this newly fallen snow

and wish to be the

salt on your cheeks.

Daydreaming a Dream

 

Winter wakes and I sleep

to dream of stark outlines;

glitter sparkles, flowing

from the liquid veins

while lover’s shadow hovers

in your darkness.

 

In the cold, heat surrounds

narrow pieces of every being

Now living, Now believing.

Rise and fall of his brother’s

heavy chest. His lucid, dying breath

slows in the mist of the

off-beat waves disappearing on the

shore. bring no help.

 

Fall back, loosen your collar once more.

this is only, just, a dream—

of that I am sure.

 

now. he is still breathing.

 

“This matter, though, does not matter.”

On the back of his observation

lay a verity in name alone—

 

Life, too, is a dream:

dark or light,

day or night—

Passion licks the lips of Death. 

A Fire to burn

I light incense for my senses

orange light yearning:

a rainbow streams. Two pieces roam from one

and as the spiraling dance

turns around in romance

i dare to face what has begun.

(my thoughts give way

to a magnificent gray

that i buried beneath the rainbow)

the cloudy d d a a z y e s, surround me.

but, the gray excavation

from my burning meditation

is not now how it was;

it is what it has and it is what it’s spun.

It is what i see. It has to be one.

The flowing sensation

of the rippling mediation

is greater than, even You.

me.

It can break through the world,

Emphasize its’ broken core.

make it crumble in defeat.

but see: it does not have

a heart to beat.

And it does not love.

It does not hold.

anything—but a desire

to tickle our senses.

to make Us believe

in Its’ greatness.