Sunday, December 12, 2010

insipid within, missing part of a soul



insipid within, missing part of a soul
as if venter and atria have long been
barren—

chronic nostalgia
in flute-song;

dross-dammed heart-spring, made wadi-dry
by a life's pursuit of root & moirae;

you—
my core,

my excised anima;
not knowing where you've been;

oh, where you are,
still

heartache—
my love

here & now—
my ever diminishing umbra;

while harmonics begin, refrain stays in,
yet mora bounds

familiar.

4 comments:

forgetmenow said...

oooo .. this is kind of spine chilling .. i actually think the poem's in the last half ...

or maybe there are two separate poems here ...

or maybe i'm just talking a load of dross-damned (dammed)nonsense lol

Noxalio said...

ha ha Shell ... and now it's butchered (as most of them are) ...

and i think it's finally dead (maybe all the better that way) ...

i almost deleted this lasts night but ... this being a diary, i thought not ...

oh well, it is what it is and should stay that way ... no?

forgetmenow said...

lol

yes it should ...

i had a mess with it but really wasn't sure how you and language are dicing each other up atm ...

oh, where you are

still
, my excised anima, chronic
nostalgia in flute-song,
not knowing where you've been,

insipid within, missing part of a soul
as if venter and atria have long been
barren—

dross-dammed heart-spring, made wadi-dry
by a life's pursuit of root & moirae;

you — my core, heartache
my love

here & now —
this diminishing umbra;

harmonics tip in, refrain fades out,
mora bounds

familiar.

Noxalio said...

ah Shell, how wonderful ... (esp. as compared to my "police constable's report style" ha ha) ... thank you, hank you ... all credits to you and this version ... (right on the mark, i must say) ...