Gathering at the stems I blew my thoughts through a ring of smoke The machine that hems me Strangles me while I choke Hung on the fallen stems In streams of clove smoke I cradled the thoughts And softly spoke... My skin sinks into it As the minutes turn to hours My eyes stick to it The flower is resinous powder Gather my thoughts And whisper it in I'm feeling lost Drinking in this sin My idols have fallen Into a broken flowerpot My roots are bleeding Being something I'm not I threw my stones Into the chasm of error Only, yesterday they arose In this mind of terror The only care I have Is how the roses smell Watching how the smoke Curls like a seashell My hand twirls my hair While my eyes see nothing My mind sees sights in black Of pure imagining Cracked pistils, cranking pistins Will conforms to dire need Unfolding new petals and stamens Prescence born for the lead The sun now is baking my heart And burning my head Heavy air, the weather's sinking Poisoning, like lead Though; through my mind and In this garden Under the seraphs noses... Nothing smells quite as sweet As smoke through the roses E.A.Altamura, Copyright 1998
Reason for writing:
Written while sitting in my backyard during the summer, taking a break from gardening.
Birth sign: Not entered
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