Reading Poetry.

I reached that page
of poetry as
would one motivated
by no-time, whose
senses unite and
decide when the flood
of words should arrive
without warning,

and read through each
line in a circularity
of resonance both known by
and devoid of me

until it was over and I
was left to
my wrecked memory

recalling only the image of a bear
scavenging the dark
world of the written verse,
its human stalker

(some kind of narrator)

weighed down by the act
of animal obsession
in a forest
bloodied by
regeneration.

No comments: