Into The Passport Silences
Into the Passport Silences
Into the passport silences of eternity I sail
with no sinful sense of retribution.
The ocean is polished granite with its
blood of salty iron filled with the species of ages.
Brothers of the sea, sister of the brine,
on your waves so hard and tender.
your deep red wine tastes of wooden consolation.
The fiery leaves of youth.
Smokey love on the streets of distances.
Jeweled embers, breasts of hot softness,
burning the lips of young men.
The dear little poet, om breathed with
sensuous visions on the street,
back roomed secrets of dusty lust.
His prayers made me cry.
There is a slice of electric driftwood lifted
by the gales.
Eternities of heartbreak that rends the pure glass sails.
Prairie schooner soldiers, cans of radioactive dust,
there are pictures of ancient mothers in dark corners
of the cross.
Nowhere on the ladder, everywhere on the sea,
rings red with mirrors, wet wreathes and dresser keys.
Dennis Kline
from Oh My Soul (2014)
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