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Poets of hued abyss reflect bright lights of truth
displacing dark clouds teasing perfection of minds
haunted by sagacious dreams floating on the winds of time.
Liberated and resurrected; yet, naked
realities echo rattling chains and cracks of whips
slicing flesh to bone; tears, blood and white salt cure
black flesh in damp darkness of hallowed spaces of shacks:
Healing.
Rising is as still as unleavened bread---
Resting warmly on platters of cold china---
Cold china etched with visions
birthing from wombs of dreams:
silent messengers.
Chaotic realities spiral through
the semi-conscientiousness of life.
Poets of Othello’s lineage: dreaming dreams delineating
veiled visions of realities resting on the bleeding bosoms
of the blind goddess of justice.
