Monday, December 3, 2012

There, dreaming up a brilliant labyrinth

There, dreaming up a brilliant labyrinth,
was the poet, eyes closed and lips moving
in indistinct patterns. There the architect
slept a system into being, there a brilliant

Sun was received and fashioned into sequences
of vowels and consonants. There the measure
and symmetry make music, the night and day
express sympathy. The stars whirl about

the sky as if they're dancing, I see one
flicker behind the tree. The Spanish moss
and the wailing of the cricket, the prayer

of frogs and bayous lull me. There, awake,
was the poet, eyes open and lips moving
in distinct patterns beginning to unfold.

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