Elliott Rosenberg

A spiritual entrainment levees,
spawning entropic cascades in its wake,
a logarithmic landscape ossifies,
effulgent among its tutelary scarps.
...

The Mirror
- - - - - -
I smiled in the mirror this morning,
She gestured back with grace,
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Song of Silence
- - - - - - - - - - -
Today I felt alone,
With so many friends to sing along.
...

I just drank some amber spirits,
that burn with fossil nostalgia,
encumber with humdrum to long a child,
purged from a fertile womb.
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Ohmmmmmmmmmmm
Ohmmmmmmmmmmm
Ohmmmmmmmmmmm
...

What started with a smile ended with a shovel,
so I thought.
Fifty years later behind the church,
Where the hurly-burly began.
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American Woman
- - - - - - - - - -

Standing before your deliberating presence,
...

Rose of incessant color,
Where have your petals gone?
Withered with floral acumen,
doused in florid wine.
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Levity
- - - -
If I can dream to fly away,
Where would I go?
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When providence proceeds with caution,
eluding starkness of day,
a daffodil shall arise singing hymns of praise.
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Dark Ages
- - - - - -
The aroma of hell prevailed,
smoking through porous ground,
...

If the moon had lips,
that swelled with words,
bulging from its fissures.
Poignant wisdom I am sure,
...

I see the truth behind the light,
That never fades against its darkness,
Colors immense with disbelief,
Draw lines that give forth vision.
...

live, love and go beyond the valley ashore.
For tomorrows yielding journey has yet to flower galore.

Last night I walked in silence and bathed my skin in darkness,
...

From the ashes of Poland grandma arose,
Like an apple orchard in bloom,
For the ulcers of survival,
Led her astray towards the ashrams of India this may.
...

Let us come to terms with each other,
inconceivable as it may seem,
For opulence draws its light from darkness,
bleeding a convalescent moon.
...

Blue smoke rising through the scented meadow,
crosses the encampments of thought towards the line of fire;
Hastily leaving her thumbprint,
To face the firing squad.
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Me acabo de beber un añejo amber,
ardiente con nostalgia fósil,
apeado con paridad deseo un hijo,
cicatrizado de un vientre fértil.
...

So many faces, so many players,
Wooden plaques hemorrhage from the trophy chest,
My elbow pads half snuggled between padded pants,
Giving that welcoming aroma of youth.
...

A blandish soul in search of ataraxy heaves forward towards an apogee
of endless space,
Where a trenchant prism refracts the psyche conflated with malicious rancor.
...