First, blame will pursue you for everything you can’t control
and everything you can’t control adds up to a magnified monster
beneath your dreams, magnified as one singular, pet peeve.
But what kind of existence is that? Does it make for adulthood
a well trained dog perhaps? An artisan of a war to come, however
small to come, treading lightly, but eventually exploding as an unforeseen bomb.
Then, this honeymoon of pull and submit, scared by scorn
restrained by the way space makes you regret, when the only
shame is in a smite, so sorry this will be your place. Inside and out.
The world will have its say on our marriage as if we invited them. Like a homemade porno.
After, if we go, so blind and mindless of our thoughts, so reckless
with each others existence, we so go anew, drunkard and stupid
suffering the end of a tale so tall that it allows us not to wonder
drowning our roots, our branches break with such blight
with no remedy to really mend, to mend us for the road that comes
it will be the proof of our submission.
4 thoughts on “Sweet Maker”
That’s an extraordinary poem, a twisting thought like a thorny vine. All those hard consonants, the ‘t’ sounds. ‘reckless with each others existence’ is magnificent. It’s a big and important poem.
this is really, really good. the third stanza is just ridiculous – the “honeymoon of pull and submit”, the paired sibilants, the sadness of the necessary distinction between “the world” and “our marriage”. deeply felt and transmitted.
I love this poem, its incongrous, in that it is so enormously life affirming without appearing in the least to be so, I love the effect this poem makes!
now that one needs to be verbal!!!… like a sweet shout..a dream you had snoring…and awoke…