the gods xvii by Donald Kuspit

 

 

the gods howled,

                                 alone at last,

with the birds,

                           shedding their wings

like leaves

                   yet gaining height

with every loss.

                             circling together

in an aura of wind,

                                  suddenly mingling

in the inevitable wonder

         outpacing mind,

reaching where words fail,

              limited by lasting silence

piercing

               to the quick of time.

 

so we flew pierced

                                   by light,

reaching the depths

                                      of darkness

to recover our senses

                                         in the immediate,

racing in the current

                                      of clouds

idealizing our nakedness,

                                                 until we too outpaced

time with our intimacy,

                                            and contentment.

 

 

 

 

 

2005-2009 Per Contra: The International Journal of the Arts, Literature and Ideas

 
Back to Archives

Donald Kuspit