Message: Bottle #32
Ignore the last one I sent you.
I'd really rather you didn't
try to find me.
Everything human is perfect here, round,
worn smooth. These green bottles
and the bones beside them.
They clink and shift in the wind.
I take in lame snakes.
Sometimes I sing
and the birds sit up on their branches.
Time is the boomerang of sun.
At night the dark shapes
of island surround me; I remember myself
stupid among you, freeing prisoners
in love with their chains,
always taking, as was the custom, parts
for the whole- the body's cavities for what
they wanted: pupils
for the black opacities they saw through.
The mouth
for what it watered to surround.
by J. Allyn Rosser, Poetry 180
"Time is the boomerang of the sun"! I really enjoy the visual creativity here!
ReplyDeleteI love this poem and we have read others like it before. It's a glimpse into the sacred secret space- in Nature- isolated in some way- with an intrigue high to stay and never return, while knowing that there is this other world out there in which society functions without us...at least for these special moments when we get all to ourselves. At first, we are always tempted to invite the ones we love most, but that very moment we do, the space shifts- the momentum shifts and it becomes all together different. Sometimes beauty is best shared and others sometimes Beauty just IS.