A new freckle marks
a fresh trajectory,
charting the northern bounds
in memory
to the death-mask purity
of destination;
the sinuous curve
of that harbour
is a covert smile for sleep
in the gauzy,
fertile fogs
of that wildwood;
but it fares foul
with deciduous friends,
who – in the green shade
of their angels – spoil us
amid the gravitational lensing
of our inconsequence,
vivid latitudes redoubled
– mapped in skin –
and thrown from the smug gulf
of the anchorage,
into the halo
of some crisp infinity.
love the measure of these lines – concentrated, disciplined. i can see, as you imply, it might have got out of control, but yes, terrific
Cheers, Mark! That line between discipline and chaos can be almost imperceptibly fine
Stellar! And the lensing line I think terrific
Thanks Dean! I had fun trying to rein in the imagery for this one, in order to prevent it becoming a big bang scatter of celestial symbolism.