One Too Many Blinkers
Somnolence, brewed with apathy,
In its feral and purged form
Perched upon the svelte frame
That thrusts the low canopies
In an endeavor to stand loftier
And muse past the knotted haunts,
Struggling to steadfast the crosshair into
The piercing eye of the adversary
In a conscious slumber in
The verisimilitude of the mirror
Leaves flipped with the gloaming,
Disintegrating the marionette's face—
The façade that stood
Like sooty pillars catching shadows
Departing without a wave
And innocuously lingering
Like the forest's milieu—
An auspicious camouflage of colors
Burying one too many blinkers
Tired, desperate, and thirsty
From watching the season constantly
Shed its skin,
The sky lighting and quelling
Its colossal chandelier,
Faces juggling bows and hills
On their mendaciloquent lips,
Forgetting the memory kept
And vying to participate
Averting the clouts to precipitate
And rivet the frail frame into the ground
So committed that the mirror's sheen
Would shatter and consume
Its own aberrational delusions
And fore another blinker
Catch the dragonfly's erratic pace
Winnowing the ribbons of this tryst
And hold these people close
In a ring that binds
Infinity.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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