Sunday, July 29, 2012

poem || Ric Carfagna

from Symphony no. 8


A gnostic Heraclitus
absorbs the sunlit meadow’s dawn
rendering it in a wordless pogrom
of philosophical abstraction
he has come here
to dwell in
this temporal frame
to trace oblique contours
of a river’s fractal geometry
to consummate
in an unframed portrait
hanging askew
on a north-facing wall
he has come here
to scribe the illegible
runes of privation
on  internal cranial halls
to envision a beauty
interred beneath
a gutted landscape’s
tenebrous rind
to dream of an autonomy
where mirrors reflect
fields of dismembered orchids
and faces sewn
into an androgynous
dimensional tapestry
a dream of
a chthonic realm
where radiant photons
emanate from a
quantum entangled
neutrino’s core
as spiraling transparent clouds
rain a Precambrian ash
upon a distilled mass
of silhouetted bodies
in a platonic duality’s fog

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