The hearts of idiom, of first language,
taboring of native tongues, past tense
rhythm of the pausing apostrophes,
flowing Marinisms of word garments,
daggers of reference marks,
obelisks spiked skyward,
wandering skims for ornamentals,
revolutionaries of ellipsis, as the syllables
or synecdoche begin.
Brief to the sigil, everyone of secret name,
imaginations of future tense,
deponent verbs, and exclamatory nouns,
if our vigils succeed,
trinity will convey our quotation marks,
by stage fright or chin music,
sound shifts of fairytales, warm Varirtyese
of kindest souls, choices polysyllabic,
mother _ speak.
To the thirst, Gardenias,
bathing for white,
drinking fresh water,
clear as diamonds,
Gardenia taitensis,
Gardenia collinsae,
Tantalus sorrow,
succumbing to velvet sachets.
At sweet rim of morning,
soft edges dismissing,
the harrow night,
caprices of Nanu,
midwife, the budding days
of cinema majestic,
apprenticeships of thirst,
Cape Jasmine.
Gaea, Ra, Helios,
thought of Caroline of lyre,
for they guessed the felting music,
before cochlear gave ear,
or C minor made quarrel eavesdropping,
thrumming oddessy’s of Camelopardalis,
for Volans knew of sound,
prior to hearing, Gaea’s cries audition.
From lineament of water,
Caroline of challis spoke plaidoyer
by her drum, psalter or tergiversate,
hearing churl refute before
the voids of mystic cavil, swain through
the clay for the sparrows of soft Eustachian
music, for the universe knew of sound,
before sophistries hearing, nay of lyre.
Wading birds in flanks of feathers, voyagers
greetings, redcap brows of wrapped wink,
lunging Heron's, in seven-league boots,
breezes of placid Coleridge, hie the hares,
rapid observations, by transition’s sight,
of Tartar’s bow.
Hebe bowls of the tortoiseshells, the bail
limp of the frogs, hajj green the thimble
thumbs of grass, both totters of the
jaywalking seeds. Idle Sunday in static
shadows of the statue mouse, not a word
from ground, regarding the weights of
sinter impressions.
The flanerie of sloth, or bolting verticals
salt lick gazelles, traipse the night of
walking tours, pleasantries of disposition
amble regent, a Ahasuerus of choice.
Signet marigold in the warmth of Rest Harrow,
soft stars of Himru brocade, the self conscious
moon of nostomania, in regress of sight. She
complains the mangroves, she senses less friendly,
forcing the jasmine, questions for the hourglass,
and her heartbeat, rushing the sand.
The gentleness hand hours, five finger candles
of white silk, floss heart felt through the fears
at dark incursions, briar the maple leaf, by bellow
of the nightjar, we rush for trace lights of atypical
windows, cloy the shutters, bathos or nostalgia,
viscera the sameness, the earrings of lamplights,
upholstery of pattern mothers, how furthermore,
the pleasures of home.
Feelings that leave the earth,
glissading of anabasis,
fountains of the snowslip,
avulse calling forth the
down-bend, of the clouds,
hear the waterfall in retroussé,
spiraling the evocations of sound.
The peppercorn, in culbute milling,
stern within the gyre,
positions poised in the mists,
among the weeping, of the leeks,
levitations of the butterflies,
gravitas of columbine,
render educible the kiting’s less
bitter, frequent flowers.
Serendipity for honeysuckle.
millet praises,
mastriano, for the silk worms
of charades.
Arching of egresses, from the
waxing moon,
sable of saffron weeping, near
the iris tombs.
Merriments in planchette,
resting eider hearts,
for the grape crafts of summer,
our skills of wine.
Who can tender more gently,
than soft tissues of time,
joys of cabriole,
water glee the ruse of swans.
Morning release the grilse,
from the honey thread of the waterfowl,
from lobo and sight hound stars,
if wise’t day become.
All the arguments of leche,
terse of buttermilk, nights of sumpter’s
blind, the tying fletch, the eyes of
dawn, infant light coming.
Heal the ophidians, thoughtless
means of batrachian, errors of newt
and the salamander, for soft palette
of the tree frogs, humming.
Daresay cosmotheist, we depreciate with
time, deem the avarice, esteem the vine,
theory of beauty, guess work of the mussel,
or the cosmology of shells, so decline.
Fate on paper, writing homilies or ex
hypothesi of the bone, love of Cyrenaic
hedonism is quickly torn, much of deities
lost to course gather or subtitled scorn.
There the late night cloth on the armchair,
will find Cicero weaving, wintering in
Spencerian dreams, for the summer rose,
purview lace, made in estate of thorns.
Figures pacing Fata morgana, maya of
idolum, in the low neckline of the clouds,
wraith of vapors earth airy, the misquotes
of stone or cobble.
Will-o’-the wisp in muff of conversation,
keeps warm her wrists from the spoonerism
and marrow-sky of Prospero, fruitful
umbrellas in slights of hand.
A Victorian night in chimeric rings of stars
beryl, absinthe soaking the figment prune
in furtive illusories of pithy saying or Sousa
sloka, tolling dreams simulacrum.
Morning is the Harmattan with steam whistle,
brannigan showers and the eardrum,
tzimmes of the Klaxon storms, Katy-bar-the-door.
Tintamarre where the branches of Hickory
clash, Boanergean thrum as the waves,
offer malffick sibilations, on the drum skins of the rocks.
Breakfast plangent the pancake bell, Cain the
weary or seven sleeping, the roar sun rataplan
to speak, flaming tongues by triangle, volley sparrows speak,
praise the white glove of heaven, I whizz to hear!
We fell upon each other, cloud on cloud,
you were a right mist, I was a left,
we formed by halves our foggy circles,
around a steady tree.
Together we made the tiniest pair of
silk sippers and left ties to posture,
in breezes of the silver reed, it was our
wish weight, as touch may be.
It was our gram of universe. a count
of million by the tales of the orchid
seed, all the Milky Way we filled
with a single kiss of greed.
We who heather from the thorn,
Come the Christmas Christ,
Warming frost, in oriels of candle light,
Come the Christmas Christ.
Holly’s children red berry, we all become,
Quicken spirit, our winter’s grace,
bring the newborn pleasant, of every age
Quicken spirit, seasons sweet grace.
Handbells quiver, for yarns of mittens,
by night the snow flakes shiver,
It’s the caroling of the star,
He who ember came, will fill the heavens,
earth to be yet, soft as cradles child.
We who heather from the thorn,
Come the Christmas Christ,
Warming frost, in oriels of candle light,
Come the Christmas Christ.
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