New Names Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Times are illusive flowers
Prophets on the peripheral maze
Vicious winds blow thru alleys
Painters need large windows
I see collectives of devils
Secular beasts, large and cruel
Find where quiet can construct
Language is a miracle

Wood sings like an old landmark
Form is in the image galaxies
Quadrants of self hear the tides
Poets hear rhythms of tacit blood
Wombs will always wait like stars
Her libido is injured excess
Reflections always need purity
I see the river flow like a buffalo

Prairie dogs guard the mind
Rain runs down valleys of history
We seem to reach for the universal
Blankets and moccasins with beads
Lore on lyres of musical forests
Golden tresses with vines of temples
Sleep on sands where time repeats
Have you signed the book of life?

New names etch their tombs