Monday, November 26, 2012

the spiral



spark ignite the disobedient mind

burn away the conscience grown fat and fallow
burn away the prodigies clearing their throats in dusty books
burn away the critics as they skulk from the arena floor
&
burn away the writer
that bygone bundle of prestige/pettiness/fear
                                                     to summon
                          in the panic heat of language     a most savage poetry
      into its steely fire fed a labor of sentences
         to goad the hunger or starve of fullness
                                                     amidst the crackle-hum of creation
                                                     a fuse lit
                                                     no amount of unthinking can snuff out
             where
        once a
   circle
    now
       a spiral
         leading where
            I know not yet
               vertigo’d by nerves
                   the architecture
                        of my words
                             provide the only
                               perspective
                          keep hidden
                   the aborted works 
             and the finishing
          school of
            slush piles
                stammer
                    the rigmarole
                        of some loose end
                            and set ablaze
                               the whole edifice
                                   to leave but
                                       page and ash
                         
 I will be patient               and recognize the text when it appears
                   postpone the crisis
                   and begin anew
                   incarnate
     
the smiling father on some kind lawn
sunlit squinting 
cliched heart and all

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