hapiness poem (random hu(man)
by rain70
Posted to Poetry on 2003-12-08 10:30:00
My occluded soul, I need
No more. This fool
Is furnished slippers,
The soles are only thinly
Glance of cloth, hardly
Pupils of dance; see
The eyes seeing
The eyes? Amazement
Is a rough noun and
Is always silent. I can
Hear my body everywhere.
Earth is a difficult
Image to mirror, our
Mutual legs taking
Centuries of shock
Afloat the clarity of death.
I want that, that
Hunt, that transparency
Of distinction, that
Black lace of laughter
That self-inflicted
‘Wild-with-it’, that
Leading off
In the middle of
Fable down acclaimed
Machine of road, down
To dawn and it’s
Dignified fears
Down to the life
Where skeletons
Are soft sweets
In the next room
Waiting like doorways
For the happy guilty
To fumble cheap
Jokes and ask to be
Made into mirth,
Altogether something new
A trickle of elsewhere, a
Clean line of tear into cup.