… and mind flutters to a close
\neyelids to slumber
\nall over, a certain darkness emerges
\nearth is populated with nothing
\nbut a tempered sigh t<\/p>\n
night flashes white underwear
\nas meteor, quickly closes her thighs
\nmortified by the radiance of stars
\nshe grows shy as mimosa pudica
\ndies from shame of too much conceit<\/p>\n
from a sprawling field of echoes
\nlife raises its braided head of beads
\nbutterflies flutter, wings bearing pollen
\nfar off, rainbow fishes in sea of grey clouds
\nfor anagrams, net dripping rain<\/p>\n
mushroom places on rotten wood
\na proud crown; elsewhere stanzas sit
\nby a fire, warming my naked toes
\npoems gasp for air, rising as spark
\nneck held by grasping fingers of smoke<\/p>\n
across the waistline of thought
\na belt of black ink runs, crossing eyes
\ndraining teas, sighs of my muse
\nmelding myriad meanings mindlessly
\nin frame of flowers and wilful weed<\/p>\n
sometimes a poem is dreamed
\nas pollen, sometimes a twig
\nor line of awakening like this
\ntells you the mind is gone
\nto dwell, as smoke, among the clouds<\/p>\n
forlorn being, crazed stalker, shadow
\nyou follow every thing, every where
\nnot form or substance, hue of sorrow,
\ndarkness assumes you, mimicking life
\nmocking every move and movement<\/p>\n
you are what light chases out of things
\nsilent cry, not alive or fully formed
\nedges taper off to hide your vapid spirit
\nin frame of arabesque light, flowing into
\nthe surrounding nothingness of being<\/p>\n
what hides in things is without blood
\nit escapes as wraiths in body and form
\nchest without heart, eyes without sight
\nmouth open, uttering not a single sigh
\npoem not written, projections without<\/p>\n
hungry to be seen or heard or known
\naching to be touched or felt to become
\ndark like this soul, flowing from within
\npoetry of deep-lying reflection of things
\nshadow of something dying to be loved
\n<\/p>\n
same way every day life begins
\non long solemn road, walking
\nchill on gone hearts descends
\nbaptising the absence of cheer<\/p>\n
slowly dawn unveils her tongue
\nspirits in grim procession depart
\nbearers of night\u2019s last darkness
\nand pleasure, breathing as dew<\/p>\n
proclaims sun\u2019s white ascension
\npilgrims juggling time as beads
\nholding in last-toned shadows
\nthe promise of light that comes<\/p>\n
darkly the days we travel begin
\nsoon, wattled cocks play ikolo
\nwith wailing life always begins
\nin the dark soul sun finds a way<\/p>\n
night, majestic, enters his dark palace
\ndancing to sultry symphony of crickets
\nwind on saxophone plays a regal tune
\nleaves, wearing green bandanas, gyrate
\nflighty fireflies, filled with fever, flame<\/p>\n
in chamber of lights and silk curtains
\nqueen moon smiles, swollen with milk
\nharem of giggling stars surrounds her
\non grey skin, groomed by time\u2019s lotion
\nfragrances and whisperings of flowers<\/p>\n
among pines a political party of wolves
\nbays at busty moon, rogue desire in loin
\nsky chats as maidens at riverside, clouds
\nfilled with water, and by the gate owl on
\nsentry hoots, wielding claws as bayonets<\/p>\n
proud and poised, the night dances on
\nabsolute sovereign, ruler of my shadows
\npossessor of what is seen and not seen
\ntowards the charmed chamber he goes
\nto lay down, lost in dawn\u2019s lighted arms<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A Field of Echoes<\/strong>
\n… and mind flutters to a close
\neyelids to slumber
\nall over, a certain darkness emerges
\nearth is populated with nothing
\nbut a tempered sight…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":1935,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1690","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1690","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1690"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1690\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1899,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1690\/revisions\/1899"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1935"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1690"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1690"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1690"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}