Saturday, June 5, 2010

While Rugged Dogma

While rugged dogma
wheeled monastic rack
and wrung me, lithe
gazelle of haloed ears,

roiling sacred haunt
inverted phallus,
and fright-flung me 'cross
mad forest shears, where

bellowing the moon,
creeping white phlox bloom,
snowball viburnum,
hostas, roses white --

Moor flames a gather
'neath mother's dark noon
glow, shriek-songing
my gloaming heart stone.


3 comments:

  1. Music, Music, Music. I love the sonic playfulfullness in this poem.

    ReplyDelete
  2. love the rhythm of this and how it's broken up. You's got talent!

    ReplyDelete