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PostPosted: Tue Apr 02, 2013 2:16 pm
by dks
Oh, how I miss this sanctuary. (As she has said a thousand times before...)


I was born on a death-bed of paper,
a sheath- mound covered my grave

I was buried by my words-
shovels full of talk-
kept my box shut tight against the moaning earth
soil-steam of unbudded life held me,
seeds knocked on my tomb-their webbed roots
tangle-tied my tongue

I was planted there for a while.
my kernel-core blown open, the rot of shedding hours
made me a new shoot

my limbs became spindle-strong
in the pine womb
I closed my eyes—loosed the loam,
with my rising

I woke a blinking bloom
newborn, silk-hatched—
green like ocean, sky-mirrored blue

for the vase-bath baptism—
placed in a cradle of fingers
by you

Re: Ready

PostPosted: Wed Nov 13, 2013 2:02 pm
by steffen
Thank you for this incredible poem, this new revelation of your luminous soul. Your work never fails to fascinate. Welcome back to your sanctuary, as you call it.