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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Early poetry stored here.

Submitted: June 01, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 01, 2018




By Alexander Guinevere Kern

Copyright, 1989


Tidal surge

Over crumbling wall stones,

Voiceless trumpets,

Sacrificial white, yellowed ivory

Or the patina of aged scrimshaw,

But crinkly, delicate as eyelids.

Jubilant open throats

Beckon, an invitation of tongues.

To pinch off

The Greeny bulb,

Extract the slick wand,

Of flower sex and its

Chrism of ambrosia,

Is art, or a sacrament.

Greedy, I strip mine

The lot of them - Quick!

To the tongue-tip - again, again, again!

intense labor for a brief -

Too brief sweetness.

I am a Pyrate of nectar,

And blessings of ecstacy,

Amid the heady smells of sun

And honeysuckle. A neighbor woman

Fed fat on beer, donuts, greasy meats,

Stumbles by, powdery, fermenting.

I clutch my natural vine

Like an article of faith.

There is treason

In loving  booze and junk food

While passing by this

Temporary gift of season.

Be excessive with the ephemeral:

The rare enchantment,

Like sudden love, like finding the Eternal

Inside a flower,

Like a divine revelation,

Like devouring honeysuckle,

Quick, quick,


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