Poems From Last June Poem by Riano Harp

The Universe is a joke!
All layers, all forms
Bear the infinite spoke
Of the flesh's dreams;
I am Creation
I have elevated shores from mist,
I have held the philospher's stone,
I have bathed in the blood of Christ,
I have moved winds and the bent backbone
Of all Gods huddling over the Earth,
Dancing in Venus' amethyst flesh,
Woven within all our hearts from birth;
Behold my form in all beings mesh —
I am thought and the atoms compose
Symphonies as lucid as gold's cress,
The infinity which we repose;
Weightless comedy, seriousness…
For contradiction is the true concetatenation
Of love, creation and harmony ———
Life is a system, to suit the poet's clarification
And these layers of life line eternity,
Each Gossamer string eternal in itself
Guide the tuned lyre and melody of the eye
To the infinite and one and lonely Self
Who's formless tears line the paths to dry:
I stood amidst the hearth of love,
I witnessed creation fill the Earth's sunken grail,
I wept and fell naked, my eyes fell from above —
And I wove a day for myself — and I left no trail…

XI

Lucid and liquid in total,
Sinking and solidy opposing,
Destroyed and deriving for eternity…

Alone, due to no one knowing who you are
yet we're all the same
yet as we're the same, we're all alone again

XI

All ink has acquird the same voice,
The throat is merely a guild of mirrors
As subtle and as viscious as mirrors
That behold the destiny of eternal rejoice.

My senses have been sewn to memory
And the hearth of the open soul,
My senses beesech to the closed soul
That still writes for rejoice's eternity.

When we see ourselves in all life
And test the nimbleness of evil
And the clay backbone of good,
We behold the salience of death.

As all man ordained under these laws
Must retract his plea's on verse
And laugh with the Universe
The principle of all laws…

The osions curl and the flowers retract
When I glare and defy all modern fact,
We are the Universe, we are creation
Embedded in the heart of contemplation.

XI

"And as we skipped, all dark,
In the glades of imagination
That run past the tree's bark
In youth's greening nation,
We came upon a gate,
Drenched in the green oak's blood;
A sign hid, as if bate,
Which read ‘Harley's Wood'"…