M J Carpenter Poems

Breathing Space

He punished his feet up and up the tall hill with the woolly weather hat.
Turning a little, He breathed the secret air that shyly danced around him.
...

Ah, but the buzz passes quicker than
A wasps wings whizzing by an empty glass.
It’s the effect stupid, and it seeps in deeper
Than blood. It hit’s the head first,
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Being is. No simple universal category
Its meaning lost in an ancient allegory
The question lost through the march of time,
That which bursts forth in every rhyme.
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I feel the cool winter creep at the end of my nose
On the sheet laid street, beneath my now made calves feet,
As I stagger in unsure awe, at the milky sky, that bore a frozen fruit,
Where this seasons loot, sank, as endless butter flecks dowsed
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Early morning blues
So bright in their urgency they are a crisp neon
As I spy the pillow end, when eyes like lion jaws
Open in anger.
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To be truly free, is to be of dynamite
Flying into the sun, without fear of light
Nor its heat that burns, through empty space,
Where comets flow, as cosmic lace.
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