A document, a form, a letter:
Thoughts materialized.
Trees bear paper, not
Like fruit or blossoms. Alchemy
Yields paper, as I
Understand it. Pulp
Of pulverized splinters, thick as oatmeal
Is pressed into thin leaves,
Sheets, like something woven
And tossed on a bed, skimming a body,
Sleeping or almost asleep.
2 comments:
goodness... i'm in absolute awe of how far you can go into creating metaphor parallels, visual examplifiers (and all those adjectives i'm using... poetic convenience !!!)
*thumbs up*!!
oh, i love this! it's not only beautiful but there's a haunt in this poem that i absolutely adore. the voice of the poem has a quality of omen to it that sends me reeling. maybe because of alchemy and splinters and thick oatmeal... love!
i totally agree with the above comment.
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