Re: Poems: June 24th, 2003

Morpheal wrote:
Still-Births
---------------
 The delicate silence
splits wide open
becoming a thin membrane
over top of a wound.
It appears nothing is allowed
to really heal,
instead becoming a consumption
of then and later,
in the kept waiting rooms
gathering various particulars
and repeating them into belief,
as to when, where and how
work was begun
upon the creation
of a first paradigmatic scar,
forever to be broken open again
in obsessive cross-examinations
of the internal contents.
 You only said you wanted me
so as to separate us again
from a kind of womb
of our seemingly hopeful arms,
leaving our historic relationship
as an afterbirth,
and the bellies of our emotions
made nauseous and numb,
having been torn open
and spilled out,
a variant of Caesarian section,
achieved with a jagged shard of mirror,
an intellectual post partum dissection ,
that plays with the empty structures
of whatever it was
that we had once found
that we dreamt of and liked
so much about each other.
 -----------------------------------
  Watercolor
-----------------
 My watercolor mind
of pastel tears
floods new kinds of romance
onto the dampened white
surface textures,
blended in
to new visions
with the brush strokes
of  eyelashes.
 I feel the inspired need
to break through
the layers of your  boredom,
a boredom that is cloaked
in various  mysteries.
as I become a desperate grave robber
breaking open coffins
in search of her resurrections
as the nearly living.
 Between lovely rows of tree
crowded dividing lines
tufted with ruffled green,
mockings of the  rigid patterns
of those nearly dead,
voices rising up in the wind
that climb up to a solitary ridge,.
outcropping of footprint
polished stone.
 Something has to move,
somewhere in the valley,
to be seen more clearly
from this eagle's perch,
and if it chanced to be her sex
I think I could swoop down
and seize the moment
before the last cry of dying
evening's light.
 ---------------------
 Robert
Morpheal