Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Symphony No. 12 (formation of the labyrinth)/ric carfagna

Where finalities are sought
and dredged
like words
from terminal corners
of rooms
where there remain
a quantifiable measure
of self-identity
to extract  from
the guttering sentiments
festering behind
the sleeping eye
and to remember
this room
that was skeletal
    and surreal
        in intimate details
where faces of  strangers
would appear
divested of an essence
that interprets
the space between
the words that were
and sometimes
a ghost would appear
recalling the sallow desires
that breathed life
and then were left
as sea wrack
in a retreating tide
and many mark this
as a page once written
and not returned to
a blemish
better left forgotten
and a view
from a window
in a room
showing  grey clouds
above a garden
and an obliquely angled
    trajectory of sun
painting stains
    on a pavement
         in the foreground
and recalling to mind
    the facile significance
        in the walls of perception
erected by impermanent vessels
clothed in flesh and bone and blood
clinging to arcane verities
and deeply rooted anachronistic myths

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