Saturday, July 9, 2011

Idea of Disorder at any Lightning Strike


In the green water, clear and warm,

Susanna lay.

She searched

the touch of springs,

and found

concealed imaginings.

She sighed,

for so much melody.

The lightning struck a dozen feet above

my craning neck, my thumping bass, and wide,

now blinded eyes, and rattled brain and frame alike.

Imbalance rectified so violently

by you or I would earn us time in Bellevue;

the universe, though, works in terms (insane)

much grander than our frightened mortal vocab.

It's this, I'll bet, that so entrances me.

I try to trace the golden arc of light

before the black field swallows it like swords,

and fantasize that when I find the source,

electric, of this art that strikes me so,

it will explain this tingle, touch: the urge

to rub this tongue against it, though I know I fail.

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