Poem by Laurence Fuller - Art by Matt Wedel
Bely that jolly blue eyed mistress, she with reverence to the hero flickering on the screen with big brothers heavy arms sees that dark force in me and begins to push down on my chest to purge it out. Scour my guts out of the fish heads and dried out beef that lingered in there heavy wrenching mornings and evening see me sleeping in confusion.
Walk me through those cinema doors and sit me down to watch through cameras capturing projected back onto screens every flicker of the soul, love blessed personal gaze of all my connected truth and memories of expansive legacies of the soul.
My eyes closed and that dream collapsed appearing in a melting forest all around branches fold over and in on themselves, like colliding faucets blending hands shoved through the strings of a broken instrument, the psychological icons that grow from the mind to the jungle of man make sprouting hemlocks.
Need the grass punching knuckles in the mud, digging drippy toes, mask the wrenching buttons of precious hearts and souls in every ornamental fauna. Heave beautiful muck at the heroes distempered. I wish for only phosphorescence I love the light pouring in the windows of crowded contemplation touching the tips of distorted endings drying leaves leaving branches naked in despare. I walk away from strange creatures that pour poison into wine and believe that I should drink it.
Bounding giant mythic heads melt in color collapsing rhythms, trotting in like giants in the rain, faces express what they see with a myriad of senses then forget it was ever there. As ringing chimes bless every step, gold and dust drifts and floats, shimmer the air, sticky plants covered in lucky mist glow in the reflection of this angel. Everything rebuilds in a kilter and the world reconvenes itself around this incredible presence.
She waltzes the forest to the crescendo of philosophy on the sky waving teary goodbyes, I walk on through the discontented jungle towards the lesser days of youth gone by, I see there all I watched and built up hope in my mind. Stripped of bark to merry meats the flashing gems of worship.
Tumbling, cascading in descent clay leaves described in Lapine luxury, melt and decay with the dark buzzing blue music of the night.
There she speaks in open prayer:
“Create for those present in your life, the ones who show up, bring bounty, joy, laughter and inspire passions. Those withholding live in closets of disappointment, as they watch wide eyed through key holes of underwhelming, the distant shores of brilliance unfold. True valiance comes when open hearts bursting with courage make life worth living.”
Watch me dalliance that noose around my neck cut loose and I with happy handed chisels carve my own destiny to the muse.