Love moving in absurd abstractions of form,
love symmetric and incommensurate as it extends
about the canal. The river oak moves its arm
into the weather and the blue birds are playing
songs in the air. It's as if the music confirms
all of the mystery I have known is sacred
but also ridiculous. I find her words have charmed
my being so thoroughly, influenced me so that I
have no other object. She responds with a firm
and measured gesture, the pressure is dropping
and the clouds hang a low-grey with a coming storm
resounding somewhere. Love that is imagining
the infinite without itself in abstract forms.
No comments:
Post a Comment