Last night’s PACKED #poetryparty house, panorama by Joshua Kristal.
thorny fingers flick the flesh
and i have thought
iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou
and you’re there but i cannot touch you
i cannot touch you
“This — For the Moon — Yes?” by Carl Sandburg.
from Slabs of the Sunburnt West, published in 1922.
“The Sound of the Trees” by Robert Frost.
Mountain Interval, 1916.
Lots of guest poets posting this month over at the poets.org Tumblr. I will be one of them in two weeks. Now you know this.
Tomorrow I am...
Poem submission by Michael Malpiedi
Noon of today the cumulonimbus
Discharged fulminological wisdom to my being
And poured drops of knowledge lost to us.
Whispered of how she wonders about our fleeing
From her gentle precipitating kiss,
And she asked if truths are not worth seeing.
She told me that maybe ignorance’s bliss
Has caused us to forget our creation
From the combination of rains such as this.
Our bodies are her waters after solidification,
And our tears are our dreams
Of melting back within her, the beauty of unification.
And with my enlightenment, all of me returned through streams
Of self evaporating while finding love within crystal seams.
I’m amazed at the capabilities of the human mind. We create, and it’s only a few of us who can do it well. This was...