Artchil Daug


Childhood Solitude - Poem by Artchil Daug

There is me, the I am,
then there is the other me
that binds the color
of the trees to the dignity
that flowed forth from
the monastery of unfulfilled
emotions, hiding in the chapel
where the hooves from
voices far, in the deserts
of sand people and their pyramids
to the giants and flowing honey
of the chosen ones, kneeling,
the servant of God, through
the young legs, younger still
the soul that requests
an end to the turbulence
of childhood, in the hymn
of angels, in the flesh and blood
of the Christ, who is neither
here nor there, in the back alley
where a priest was found
lying down with his puke,
face bruised, after a day's
drunken ejaculation.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, August 22, 2012



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