“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label under the skin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label under the skin. Show all posts
Monday, December 24, 2018
Here yee
By anthropomorphic standards;
that which possesses the sharpest quality
is able to penetrate without drawing a drop of blood-
it is the words that slip under the skin,
instructing our sense of tactile awarenesses
that are permeable, absorbed
and mixed into our blood or consciousness streams
beneath the smooth surface, it flows like riptide
whereby, like all liquid bodies,
we obey the laws
thermodynamically,
by an embered blush
or spontaneous hurried chill.
I will listen more closely
when the words
are honed
to the point of Truth.
Painting by Théo van Rysselberghe [Public domain via Wikimedia].
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