deepundergroundpoetry.com
Of the Sun
(one of my favorite older poems)
Brutal, this is
creating beauty
wounds to golden silence,
grave adventure
& unheard death:
a voice cut short
by shrinking day.
Engulfed in lunar moan,
sky-gaped lines
howl the quiet of the glow
insufferable,
remarkable:
a soul that charges
for a stone
or standstill.
Lungs that bloat
through plough & smoke
or lifting rocks
with stomach knots.
Beauty, this is
the scar & the song
of phoenix'd rising,
the light & the climb
of scarlet wind
reborn...
the night is ash
& growing day.
Brutal, this is
creating beauty
wounds to golden silence,
grave adventure
& unheard death:
a voice cut short
by shrinking day.
Engulfed in lunar moan,
sky-gaped lines
howl the quiet of the glow
insufferable,
remarkable:
a soul that charges
for a stone
or standstill.
Lungs that bloat
through plough & smoke
or lifting rocks
with stomach knots.
Beauty, this is
the scar & the song
of phoenix'd rising,
the light & the climb
of scarlet wind
reborn...
the night is ash
& growing day.
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