summer of love

May 22, 2008

The stained-glass saint has a beard
and behind his head is a tendrilled sun.
He thinks he looks like God. They all do.

I think of the cross
how its wearer’s blood dried to ink
then black wire.

The sky is fierce with clouds.
Angels turn to silt in their guts, cast themselves
to the pavements, the gutters.
I move to shelter through my thoughts

of America, wishful,
imagining a pulsing bag of chrisali. At Beltane
a girl wove me a circlet of twigs and flowers
and I dreamt I was a summer of love.

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4 Responses to “summer of love”

  1. I’m so happy to read your poetry again.

  2. It’s really nice to see you here 🙂 . I’m just dizzy that people remembered about the place. Thanks Dosia, It’s so awesome that people have come back.

  3. Paul said

    Hello, I am new to your website. I found it on Peter and the Hare’s blogroll.

    I like this poem. There is some very inventive language in it (e.g. “tendrilled sun”, “fierce with clouds”.) Thank you for posting this.

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