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Literature Text
Shadows lost to mine
Eyes invisible to the light
Harvester of moons and distant worlds
Keeper of the diamond mire
Chasing infinity
Caught out in God's device and design
Soul salvation
Swallowed by the night
It was written in a dream
Literature
In Name Only
the last great novel to annex a king
we sang songs and hymns in the western twilight . . .intergalactic lanes
distances that break mindshere we area gyroscope hurtling through space
a great marble cue ball of blues, whites, and greensbut you leave that terra verandah son,
you get out there north of Saturn,
passing by the rings on your way to Neptune...and it's as though the whole apparatus
all nine spheres is stood on endand there you are, staring down that ancient wellstaring down at the Spanish moss couture of Louisiana live oaks
staring down at West Texas oil rigs
staring down at Kilimanjaro, Erebus, and Wrangell-St. Elias
staring dow...
Literature
Stardust Tears
you stare interstellar
with galaxy eyes and stardust tears
planetary projections
pierce my protections
the walls of my black-hole mind
and the gravity sucks you in
down beneath my sticky tar obscurity
that utter blankness suffocates
I subsist here, exist here
extinguishing those celestial lights
absorbing them into my fathomless fathoms
those bottomless sounds
ticking countdowns, shutdowns and rebounds
from these inevitable extinctions
until there is no distinction
between your galaxy eyes and stardust tears
Literature
Crash
A shinning messenger, falling towards the grass;
A golden sheen from the Gods of the past;
This time instead a hint of red;
This time the feelings of hatred and dread;
Those who had come so far, driven to the edge;
Can only watch in silent respite at the results of their pledge;
Rocketing towards earth, his duty done;
Through the whispering clouds, earning safety from shun;
His mind clear of what he must do;
To bring this gift to those he knew;
He closes his eyes as the grounds grows close;
Another shinning messenger escapes into the wind;
His last thoughts a final sin;
Becoming one with the earth in a deafening crash;
Forever gone from th...
© 2021 - 2026 RJBG
Comments7
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This poem is well-crafted! It's wistful, grand and lonely. It reminds me of the last five lines of John Ashbery's 'The Ecclesiast', where he talks about fine vapors and cold nights, and chimes, and angels, and factories all lit up. Your poem's short but well done.