Prelude
. . . . . . . . .
History: is guessing
what was left out
who knew the secrets
and who had the clout.
History: is running
back to where you came
why prophets and profits
sound alike.
History: is written
words sealed to their shape
but you know by looking
where the words are not
there’s a whole lot
of Nothing keeps
History in place.
. . . . . . . . .
History: is weaning breasts
in loose singlets; the adult nipples
of the brunette
as she undoes the buttons
on the blond,
fingering her friends
pyjama strings, elbows
to palm, they arch
against the wall
papered with the drooping
legs of egrets.
. . . . . . . . .
Your name— is a protected seed.
This poem: is a fertile thought
recognised in Time— it is not
the aloneness of the mountain :
Einstein’s failure to understand
the importance of Lensing,
may, once again, indicate
a hidden hand among the times
A man can be spelt away;
women spelt the same.
Bodies in flame evaporate
being, waves in fluid Time
from a human birth, a mother
from her dark into the light
the conundrum of ‘the other’
consciousness which cannot
know itself without another
of something which it’s not
. . . . . . . . .
Very thought provoking. I also like the smooth flow for the reading 🙂
your ideas of history interest me. real good, Dean