11-09-2014, 06:57 PM
I marked the revolutions of the sun
until my cooking skin began to peel.
Exploding from ephemeral ideal,
That unseen force that packed a youngman's gun
Was also like that lofty flea of Donne’s.
Because I howled like Lear upon his wheel
Because that summer wind would not reveal
Its origin. I searched the skies for puns.
I could reduce the meaning of the text
until the concrete casted figures fly.
I could continue grasping noon-time sky
But then it slips and leaves a man perplexed.
Perhaps the answer’s found inside the eye,
But then I’m back again, revolved, at I.
until my cooking skin began to peel.
Exploding from ephemeral ideal,
That unseen force that packed a youngman's gun
Was also like that lofty flea of Donne’s.
Because I howled like Lear upon his wheel
Because that summer wind would not reveal
Its origin. I searched the skies for puns.
I could reduce the meaning of the text
until the concrete casted figures fly.
I could continue grasping noon-time sky
But then it slips and leaves a man perplexed.
Perhaps the answer’s found inside the eye,
But then I’m back again, revolved, at I.