poetry
No real message behind this poem, just an experiment in language. This poem always stays in my mind as "the violence of spring", which just goes to show even a poet can't remember their own poems correctly. Maybe I should have used that phrase instead. This is one of my favourites though.
Replica (1993)
now is all the time i have to think.
bitten back like a seagull shore;
distant voices
(and faces)
shame the predictions:
there is nothing.
a tundra of lovebred eyes and
blameless hearts,
we laugh as the violence -
onset of spring, throws embellishment
on the long silent
shores; these small pieces of imagination
on a desolate coast, not unlike their whispering minds.
men are all the same in
death;
they say. but let us not
think such morbid things,
for as we dream,
radiance of beauty spreads its ugly arms and
envelopes
us
all.
shared benevolence;
they say. shared of spirit and
those of mind reach to
find
something not entirely theirs.
a map, a chart, is all you need to find that
seagull shore.