Above all overarching heavens and gods
across borders of mind, after all is spoken
against each tyranny along fences
amid flocking birds, among dancing stars
around the apex of morning
before anyone leaps
in front of that train of thought,
under all dreaming, there is friction
beyond measurement, but calculable
by stellar abaci in enumeration of the innumerable
down going rain that is singular in summer
and learns its plural in snow
since we must ascend through all ritual
to meet a god toward heaven
under all prayer, until vision climbs
the steps to the altar, hands raised
to touch what is reachable, but
without reason
Really like this; strongly-muscled mental discourse. Very well written.
Bart, thank you!
Wow! My head’s spinning!
LOL, wrote this for my daughter, who just told me this morning she hates prepositional phrases
I LOVE prepositional phrases! And gerunds. How else do you write really looooong sentences?
That last stanza–wow–been visiting the temple again, haven’t you?
Thanks, Jcc–Agree with you about PFs and gerunds. Where would we be without them?!
Burn the temple down, Susan. Burn it down (but never stop writing).
Exceptional! Loved it!
Thank you MoaD.
so clever and so good Susan
thanks, Audra.
Yes, this is exceptional,
Thanks, Celestine.
I felt the sensation of a needle and thread, weaving through words…
Thanks, Nelle. I like this one, though it is more of an exercise than a poem, born of a pile of prepositional phrases. Still have not decided what to do with it, ultimately.