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Click hereI do not see the clouds on the horizon
in the hour preceding dawn,
only the numinous stars,
and wish for the warmth of a hand.
I looked in the mirror while shaving,
a cut imitation of life,
a dry pharoah, organs somewhere in jars,
I do not shave anymore.
Yea, I have been plagued by thieves,
had human warmth taken from me;
I burn with the heat of the sun
on sand.
The dawn clouds appear
in luminous awe
full shades turn nagual
white, then disappear.
And I look to the sunrise
over a low October fog
to see the splendour of god
in death, and the world
looks like it's on fire
over the burnt October mist.
*revised from a earlier edition
Although I'd describe some elements of this poem as being downright brilliant, it has some flaws(not that my work doesn't sometimes have these as well.) To point out one: "I burn with the heat of the sun
on sand." "I burn with the heat of sun on sand" is much more impactful. On a similar note, I'd dispose of the "and" at the beginning of the last stanza. Next to last stanza, a comma after "awe." I'd also consider a little more nature imagery: something to clarify this landscape and offset the personal rumination(assuming the poem is actually set in the desert, I'd expand on this theme.)
friendly regards,
Sean
Great poem 1201. Mournful and caught the lonely hours of early morning beautifully. The one line that stopped it being a near perfect poem for me was 'I looked in the mirror while shaving,' It just feels too literal to me in a poem full of melancholic metaphors.
bb
Not only is it clever and intelligent, it is infuckingcredibly beautiful. While I am more partial to the work you used to have up (it had a more rock'n'roll feel to it) your more recent work is amazing.
Excellent juxtaposition of the warmth of life and the cold of the living dead...