Remember that it is
a love poem
and that no matter how you feel about
the subject,
it is just another mediocre war-room
situation,
determining whose fate you decide with
a push
of the red floppy button with the
large white
stenciled lettering which implicitly
states -
DO NOT PUSH.
Implode instead
like the Fury you dream
yourself to be.
For gods’ sake, run
a red light, but keep
it in mind as a suggestion for further
exploration.
Remember the line from Keats,
then remember that line from Lorca,
the one you can never imitate no
matter
how many times you can imitate the
line,
keep in mind the incomplete shore,
no doubt, keep in mind the widow’s
story
(about the
peek-a-boo show she remembers from
when she was a girl, a little,
innocent cloud-infused girl, before
she met him),
the tales of the glowing bask of the
balky sea
struggling to be land, ground or time itself,
its evolving desire
to smell, touch, taste a tree, a hill,
a story a balky sea can tell
its
companions of its time in hell.
The unruly behavior of various
sequencers and ladders
has caused them (and their ilk) to be
banned from use indefinitely
in sonnets, sestinas and villanelles. Don’t
let this happen to you or your
beloved!
Remember
that it is a love poem you are
completing, not a revolutionary
turn on the language wheel, not an
experiment in
how
do you say what needs to be said and cannot be spoken?
The same way you say everything else:
with
a broken, splayed escape,
a wink that way, a nod this.
© 2012 – Mark A. Douglas – All Rights
Reserved
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