sexta-feira, 23 de outubro de 2015

Poetry of Barnacles


Poetry of Barnacles

the end of the journey is strictly
the first step out of an organized path
leading us somewhere – let the new world
begin, then, as I roll down my tongue
into a damp sea-salted cleavage
biting tenderly to grab the marrow
in its tubiform hulk  each pleat
unbelting much of deposit like
untold images - or so it seems -
it strikes my attention the amount of
possible disguised enigmas hiding behind
the structure of this cirriped's
flesh  filtering an array of sensations
it locks me into my early youth
and I see the curling has been bent
consistently over and over
all these years
transforming the knob into a feeble
dormant thing
- unscathed stone -
the same that used to bring me into
a state of plenitude  an odd and claysome
moment occurring at times
by which I came to be each and every
sand grain resting in our universe
with no other needs besides fulfilling
space with presence – one only possible if
singular and plural at once – in such times
I was alone though in my solitude
there was room for the whole – human
and material kind

I realize there is a timeless link
between past and present – the barnacle's leg
has a crispy outward layer slightly
wizened as an old man
in contrast its inside is soft and
juicy flavors remain active
long after swallow occurs
inviting to further
explorations – might
be


© 2015, José E.T.M.Coelho


Sem comentários:

Enviar um comentário