Norman F. Santos Poems

Excoriate your garish light
I belong to the crimson sun
Thank you and I apologize
For giving you apt wings
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Hello Stranger,
Which seat did you take?
My feet dawdle by the parquetry
My knees squirm in a rattle
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Sandman, heave my head
For I have stained my hands
With blood and anguish
I found in virulent berries
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The yuletide breeze was gyrating, birds migrating
When a tourist flagrantly sniggered and took a swing
Wading through the acrimonious saturation of the horizon
In my soggy eyelids, the harbingers of time beckon
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Frantic over the fountain of exhaustion
A nonsequitur savant staggered in ablution
To succor her bloodshot eyes, and the vile
Stain in her fluid tongue, and meanwhile
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Halcyon weather smile
Brighter than the bursting sun
Rupturing the violent tempest
With the geometrical perfection
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Haplessly wafting through the pavements
Where the sun sprawled in supercilious entanglement
The mirage somersaulted in a carousal
Whilst my iron eyes thawed in arousal
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Permit the effervescence of the wind
To don on your dishabille glacial shoulders
And take you in a sailing apt for your besieging
To an island heaving of palm trees
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As I lay, pensively, dying
Beneath the seething graze of the sun,
In a metaphorical metamorphism,
I found myself, in films, meandering
...