the palliative pleasures of eulogy

[sweetwater]

The moment is a flower
that swords cut through
as scythes screaming in the hail of caesar

tilling fields by hand singing songs
of the past

and change color in the autumn wind

the context to feel the passing of time
the days in the metanoid open verb moving
like herons and goblins gouls and horses

casting lines as
waters of affection and other desires to extend
the extending toward

pillars became the facade
by which you called the night meaning
and as of art recycled metal

and

and dream like words longing
in the stimulating afternoon
museum

to express the image as the cycle of returning
ideas to the sourcing sorcerer of ideas

as
a memory frozen in an ice cube
the play of time to taste the metaphor of play

cloistered in the garden of love
like fences fencing
the golden long tail evening
falling over

the salting sea and a smile
that is lost in the gleaning morning

conspicuous gestures of love like poems read
aloud in the silent shadowy night

the lives you have witnessed as the
friendly ruminance of relating open eyes and sugar bowls
the remnants of ruins with good intentions

the truth as strategy to
explain in a breath the entire nation
of emotion

the context and agenda to phrase the storm and song
in reference to the borrowing of time

and trees as tall as the eye can drink for thirst
and continents swimming in the
lighted opinion of debutantes

and great conversations we all admire

stars and clouds and the moon
stand in the ascending sky as if it were forever
not unlike life itself to die forever

or as some to mean
never to say … what it is that life relates
forever

to live
this is what it seems to be

moments you mean to replace as eulogy
in the planting of a tomato seed
the design mercilessly beleaguered

the mistakes you made along the way
the triumphs of something distant

the drought of culture made by grass
and the merciless appraisals of yields to yield
beyond the comprehension of glory
and bounty

things that are lost in the weeds
and tall gentle bindings of treasures
assembled into stations of escape
and observation

the coil of life’s returning insult and praise
to feel the ambivalent in relenting
remorse curse and blessing

as some dialectic recursive argument

and synthetic textiles to appease the suffering
the objectivism of the material body
devoid of spirit

the machine in the ghost

opium prescribed as oath and palliative pleasures
machina

never to return
never to see again

the word becomes the thing
lighting a fire
the image becomes the god fading
into tone and the distant surreal embalmed

unknowable and existential
optimistic
blissing of experience

the wide and grandiose
the aesthete and agnostic

theos

the conclusion as absolute
remains itself the mystery by which
we confuse as diagnosis the time of your death

the moment you were born
the reawakened triumph of a professed
re-incarnation

and the second coming

the potentional of becoming more

[dadio]

Interesting poem, well written.