Muse Alone
As these eyes ruminated
for the forlorn entropy
and cicatrize from reality
sleep fanned the embers
under the condor's nest
with infernal sibilance
grating painfully
invoking the saline water
to hit the kirtle
measuring the distance
that stretched
for another month
In the equipoise
of the myriad of blatancy
and perfunctory banality
I searched for depth,
for fathoms,
for life in bereft -
There was not a quasar
inflamed like yours -
two dancing pistols
revolving with doors
I miss you
ever more
never more -
my asylum of sanity,
my sanctum of artillery,
my pantheon of decay,
my hope and
lost hope:
amities
afflicted
I will look for you -
your taciturn footsteps
leading to the alley
stalled in a novel
or lines of poetry
in my dream hued
with steely blue
wistfully careening
over the pockmarks
and derided salutes
caught in the vortex
of pensive reveries
tasted daggers
of forced amnesia
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poem by Norman Santos
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