Thursday, 16 October 2008

Cupid's DIY - Roseanna Freiburghaus

Letting the compost clot of thoughts manifest,
this is what you earth-tied blinks are.
I’ll inflict upon you the two extremities,
to make you see God’s work. But it’s no
lie to say I’m not one of his winged triumphs.
Because I’ll give you purity and you’ll do as you will,
disappoint, drilling holes in bridges. Time is no one’s enemy
living as a hermit, try to understand, but it
will clasp you in its claws, purring you to the edge of
capability. I’m the apple tree nourishing you
yet buds only taste a few. Each shot I’ll kill
a little piece, but catalyse them too.
Without me there would be no pain, that itself
too horror filled to comprehend - the stillness of the moon.
Its not a question of should, I do exist, accept.
Biology would scream without arrows supporting its three legs.
It’s up to me, and only I, to make this land flood.
I am the salt, I am the water, I am the ultra violet,
I am the words sucked dry in voice, your years of hammering on.
And like the Beatles harmonized, I’m all there is to hear.

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