Humming Snow Of Time

Humming Snow Of Time
© Surazeus
2023 03 14

The orange thunderhead of swirling desire 
crackles over slurred contours of sour hills 
where grulla horses graze. Three sparrows dart 
along radio waves to the lonely house 
where wind waits mute. If I fall from the cloud 
no child will find kite of my skeleton. 

Divergent blooms of cohesive cottonwoods 
explain why childhood in gold sunlit fields 
deceives my heart with bitter truth that we 
die forever. With humming snow of time 
flowers transform rotten bodies. Too deep 
in dark hypnotic well my spirit floats. 

Unbearable beauty borne by bold bells 
cracks foundation of our global world view. 
Roses bloom from bloody light of the moon 
ten million years of serpentine respect 
more varied than weird eyes. I choose to live 
because I will know naught after I die. 

Reluctant syntax of tangled tree roots 
articulates why love, from spring wind born, 
emerges sharp through inelegant grief. 
Behind granite walls of my startled eyes 
wounded heart of the cosmic architect 
hides shocking joy in unseen artifacts. 

If I speak plainly to indifferent rain 
about why green bleeds from my pulsing brain 
you would understand why I want to sing 
hymns of honor to the hyacinth girl 
before she dies. Her mask floats in the pool 
where she threw her innocence with disgust. 

Dressed in black suit and white silk wedding gown, 
the man and the woman, still holding hands, 
walk in dark pine forest among wet ferns 
while their mothers photograph their true love. 
Quotidian routine of soul mimicry 
conceals vainglorious quest for how to dance. 

Gesturing fingers in complex figurines, 
she synthesizes fractured beams of light 
through drops of water quivering mirror eyes. 
If cataracts veil world view of my eyes 
I may become the Glow Cloud no one sees 
that gleams with madness of the sad goldfinch. 

I never will believe tall tales men tell 
to hide that they lost all their hard-earned wealth 
which simulates nature in works of art 
no one wants to steal. Bells on the oak ring 
illogical fate of magic expressed 
by blind seer who allocates sparks of time.