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7/11/2006 10:11 pm
how can two chosen words
ever attain the harmony of pure rhyme
that pulses through you as your body stirs?
Out of your forehead branch and lyre climb,
and all your features pass in simile, through
the songs of love whose words, as light as
rose petals, rest on the face of someone who
has put his book away and shut his eyes:
to see you: tenses, as if each leg were a gun
loaded with leaps, but not fired while your neck
holds your head still, listening: as when,
while swimming in some isolated place,
a girl hears leaves rustle, and turns to look:
the forest pool reflected in her face.
the gazelle by gazella dorcas for you
7/13/2006 1:27 pm
You answer your question in your title. |
From chosen words emerges harmony
When enchantment abounds
Bodies throb in synchronicity
As echoes of rhymes resounds.