The Naked Troubadour

Road Works [poem]

Posted on Oct 25, 2011 Updated on Mar 30, 2017

I am lost but strangely calm and unpointed
like liquid mercury on a slopey surface
reflecting the slightness of being and seeing
and reeling and feeling with secondhand
dealing I fill with unrealised urges

I am wound but weirdly free from all harming
like sprigs of lichen on a barkless tree
expecting a dewfall of sighing and highing
while wining and dining on sunaround
shining I feel like a heart amputee

I am cloned but dangerly uncopied clotting
like leucolymph cellmates in bloody remains
rejecting the torrent of flowingful going
full-knowing scar-sewing all the time
growing I pain for the rain of my veins

I am graced but stupidly lacking refinement
like crazy paving on some grainful earth
convecting a current of shockingly rocking
eye-popping life-swapping honeycombed
mocking I search for the secrets of birth

I am fazed but gingerly hoping for changement
like rocks washed by seas in the coves of your thighs
perfecting the smoothness and leanness between us
all-serene cleanness and wiltingful
sheenness I long to be patient and wise
© 2011, Alan Morrison