And then the Spirit recognized the Spirit in matter.

By Andreas Tille [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

By Andreas Tille CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) via Wikimedia Commons

Just another blog of poetry and creative prose that on the surface would appear is simply self-indulgence, a no entry fee platform where I can pretend I’m a poet and a writer, what those words used to mean before there were a billion of us writing, and when all’s said and done it might be that shallow, this blog that is, and maybe the billion pens too, but maybe there’s more that can be said that hasn’t been said like it could be, and if this blog is about anything it’s about such a saying, language thrown as far as your hand can throw it, out past tradition, out past norm, and out into the unknown.

Pregnant With the Void

by Donny Duke

An inner calm lay.
Sir something is wrong:
No powerful manner pictured this.
I boat my room,
Just drift there.
What would silence anchor?
The Illimitable.

How that would lift:
And the unimaginable
Give me game.
Can be we’re wrecked.
How many animals are in the deep?
Large angry tentacles –
Grasp necessary:
The Illimitable
Practice courts.
That’s my shelter:
Not gonna do me in,
Any number.
Where illume can manage.

There’s hope for me.
I don’t think you’d grant me that.
There, I’ve rubbed the world wrong.
What would a large oceangoing vessel lose by sailing?
It’s in your window today.
Come on let’s count everybody
The bad man’s sins.
Illimitable reach that?
No sight on your regard
All forms surpass.
A train on enlightenment,
By force of power.
A witness there,
Love unmodified.

Thousands of firefighters with a rope,
Prescription medicine.
Nothing deadly.
I know what I did to my shoulder.
Can’t rig disciples
And carry them aboard.
I give poems,
Not as much as I
Write them.
Found it,
A single poem of mine?
What a boon.
There’s that call for better,
And no e-mail.

Paints pictures:
There’s me
And the stairwell.
I host alone,
What gets me in the ballpark.
The inner side of relations
Don’t take my home plate.
On those lines
Doesn’t get book.
Now band over.
Clean me out.
One extension:
You’re on;
You diamond?

All material in this blog is protected by © copyright. If you want to use something though, just ask via the contact email. I’d hardly say no.

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