Welcome to Cerulean Nocturne, an experimental poetry blog. You will find manual writings of invented language here. Delve in and undergo a journey behind the oblique mask of formality. Discover brand new forms of poetry. Associate your own hidden meaning from these Rorschach texts. Dare to plumb the depths. (Awl poured seas sub decked to pain and coffee rights belong exhumed and free circa twenty fifteen to the Scribblenaught.) Winsome tale. Luzum mind.

December 26, 2010

THE BLACK SPOT


Thickly agglomerated oases
in curved, rib-refracted light
puddle the trombone-gold quill-tip
reflecting a slightly bent
quickslipping, vanishing view
of the words receding
in the rearview mirrored.

A well, fuming open
and re-inserted into
for the talon's pointing finger
to draw from (the sap it bleeds
is lain out in exact patterns)
and from which a conspiracy
is slowly drawn, by the slow
pulling of a plunger.

Finds its way to the heart
(being detoured to a delta)
and left to dry out
onto parchment
less magnetized
than dust.

As such, left
in minds
to rust.









sl
reaching
for a bluer
crimson,
writing
with a
quill



No comments:

Post a Comment