Tristan�s Tourniquet

  1. -Z- profile image84
    -Z-posted 8 years ago

    Iseultian, all eyes,
    I hand-deliver my only bouquet of Joe-pyes;
    A cache of trump.
    Their pink is mere cover-up for their comet-like
    Quick-release of starlight.
    Starlight masquerading as scent.
    But those quick-fast galaxies,
    Those prickly rose, those hyacinth, those hollyhocks
    And amaranth:
    You breathe, gossamer of gossamer,
    Hoverer of silk.

    In your immediate silk,
    I present to you my only jar of gooseberry wine;
    A philosopher�s plot
    Of danced-on berries, sweet-purple packed grapes,
    Cruxed by time.
    And blue lightning in a poet�s pot.
    Such light that midnight blackness could not blot.
    But these center-perfect galaxies,
    These reeking orchids, these baobab buds, these pistil-perfect
    Dragon lily seeds:
    You breathe. I breathe.
    Cycles cycle the spiral

    Out the eyes looking in,
    And so I give you my only crate of Pandora�s wax;
    Of stingy love;
    A catacomb of chaotic romance; of amorously laced tulips,
    Strangled by heartstrings.
    And fast-spiraling crow�s wings;
    Birds that flock, that murder the sky,
    But for translucent galaxies,
    For milk thistle, for star thistle, for the sow thistle�s tiny seeds
    Delivered by the goldfinch,
    For them, not I,
    Are you, Iseultian, all eyes.

    (inspired by �of passion and seductive trees� by Jay Hopler)