HOLISM
-after Walt Mc Laughlin
morning mist clinging to tall
timber
may be the breath of God
- evidence here is
non-conclusive
i live in sweat shops
where the rancid smell of paper
pulp
may be the fart of God
- evidence from different corners
of a distinct universe
* * * * *
WAS NOT THE MOON I ASKED FOR
was not the moon i asked for
but access ...
as night turns to mist
& owls take the long way home
but tell no one of their journeys.
was not diamonds i asked for
merely glitter ...
as the wind winds its way
through dark mountains
whispering tales to moss covered
stone, stone that retells the story
only when questioned.
* * * *
POEM
she smelled of jasmine
tasted of chablis
the sound of rivers
between black & green rock
& in the broken oaks
jays called out for celebration
as she spoke
lust
* * * *
(c)Kenn Mitchell
for more of Kenn's poetry, and information about his books in print, travel to:
KENN MITCHELL HOME PAGE
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