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Prose Poem For The Sierra Dawn
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Stanley Gemmell
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Mar 16, 2009 06:34 PST
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Prose Poem For The Sierra Dawn
In the summer, the air smelt of burnt sweet-wood, the air was
bluish-gray with smoke. The magnificent and jagged line of forest and
mountain chain contained silken envelopes of devastation similar to a
beautiful woman's words. Fallen and ashy tree trunks toppled
haphazardly upon each other like so many toothpicks, logical arguments
or rumors regarding the beloved. Grey and hazy-dusted clearings
intermixed among the thriving, summer green.
The sun brought warmth and was magnificent, thusly. Made your
companion's skin flush. Gold and tawny limbs tousled themselves lithely
among cool pools, whose rocks congressed intelligently at bottom, slick
with moss. California cool conveyed itself as if in pure rays of light
extending from the open hands of The Virgin copestoned among surviving
and mighty oaks. The obedient and beautiful, downcast eyes of nymphae
at concentric surrounds. So into this poured nectar. Thick, liquid
gold to soak the forest's floor, and mix with the dust.
From the lazy swirling motes, as if in slow guitar and drum
counterpoise, formed briefly names, who just as slowly disentangled to
dissipate. Oh the belayed fragments of a woman's dreaming mouth drank
from this sunlight, innocent and glorious and sexual with hands and
haunches. Begone drudgery of darkness! Previous lightning staining
stars with fire! Begone undue shift! The serrated teeth of daggers now
buried in the land's ash. The sun's rise has robed the mountains in
purest amber.
STANLEY GEMMELL
2009
Temple2 http://www.angelfire.com/il/surlsone
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