a response to Rainer Maria Rilke’s Duino Elegies below is the second of ten poems.
Noble words revolve
like wisps passing through my stars
A temporary, fractious glory
flings my arms like backward wings
with feather tips,
spread in sweet torture.
Wandering tension throbs in this dark belly of thought,
the first birth or dismembering of consciousness,
buttering me with music
sugaring my experience
gifting me with choice
to see the autumn harmony
falling on invisible shoulders
and nuzzle in to hummus here.
OH luminosity and wrath,
what is my excuse for garnering golden borders
where only liquid song slides?