Treasure Island

doug bentley


After the cord separating us
forever was cut from you,
snake of sensory ecstasy,

i, dark well of dreams
saw constellations gleam,
mercury balls spilling

from alchemist's spoon
in geometric strings
upon black silk;

precise incisions of synchronicities
in fabric of time stitched together
with delicious mystery the mind

of Man is inherently inclined
to pursue, for it's moon benders
who clock shadow of sun's

eclipse, setting ears straight
as arrows shot into the sky,
pinpointing heart of Being.

then think on this: for whereas
some comet's tail, like angel
hair, shall regal purple night

with its mist and tombs breathe
forth their ghosts such things
shall Be...

Submitted: Saturday, August 31, 2013
Edited: Friday, September 20, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

RE: ISON (C/2012 S1)

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