David Sutherland is lead editor for a publication called “Recursive Angel” which looks for poetry, fiction and art on the net. Additionally, He has had the good fortune of seeing his own works in a number of publications with recent pieces appearing in “The Trincoll Review” and “The Poetry Forum”. David is a member of “The Academy Of American Poets” with his first book of verse due out early next year.<\/p>\n
SUBITO<\/strong><\/p>\n Tense the little muscles that Burnt magentas’ And cold, Months Life, BALD-POINT<\/strong><\/p>\n In spite of the There are And Mind has This thing is perditious judgement goes bereft as EROS ELUDED<\/strong><\/p>\n Vague the threat of consciousness And ears that hear close in dissension, Remain(main) chasten to the body they burn a candle with skin soft paper apparition Soon, Worlds that spin, MINERVA IN PASTEL<\/strong><\/p>\n Her dark-tweed matte lay of weave or hue, birth lines Minerva, all we know and colors you.. in rouge and charpet NULLIPARA<\/strong><\/p>\n Life is Scorn these organs.. And to soon I become loom, CAROUSEL sense the ground And hope’s never; spill out from tight Canvas of flesh, And lifes’ never; EMPTY PAGE<\/strong><\/p>\n Like a medieval monk on manuscript, Never a writer would pen swears fanatical control, surely this outworn image a lifetime of poise melts in David Sutherland is lead editor for a publication called “Recursive Angel” which looks for poetry, fiction and art on the net. Additionally, He has had the good fortune of seeing his own works in a number of publications with recent pieces appearing in “The Trincoll Review” and “The Poetry Forum”. David is a member of … <\/p>\n
\npour over shedding locks of
\nundisturbed hair and
\npure and bright are the
\nvast energies that rise
\nto a setting sunset
\nat days start,
\nand days end.<\/p>\n
\ndrawn like lips in silence.
\nWilderness, desert, depth,
\na whole canvas of fears shed to
\nan eternity and coined
\nto a calendar finishing month.<\/p>\n
\ncold the sharp porcelain of Winter
\nbluff and crags of
\nunfinished..months<\/p>\n
\nbefore Springs’ navel rings to count its
\nrinse of tears on stone and
\nmarauding ephesias twitch indolence in the
\neyes of sudden..Life<\/p>\n
\nfierce your almost
\ntangible bliss of
\nsoft,
\nsoftly spoken words.<\/p>\n
\nmany parts moving,
\nrolling joints wrapping-up
\nLife’s dull expressions in
\nquiet dismay.<\/p>\n
\nshortfalls,
\nhairline cracks of
\nsudden un-becomings,
\nalignments shot in geometric clarity,
\nto the perfect angles of
\ncause-effect which
\nbalance nature on reality’s Mean as
\nconcrete actualities subsume this
\nfragile framework of Mind.<\/p>\n
\nno edge against
\nrigorous calamity,
\nnaked shock.<\/p>\n
\nsadly we slip, slip, slip on
\ninsignificant signs whose
\nturing valves vent in force then
\nbloom and
\nBoom! similarly
\nyour lack of warning, bravely my refuse of knowledge
\nirrelevant,
\nits done.<\/p>\n
\nmuffled words,
\npretentious sounds,
\nchoke-starts failing as ambitions’
\nmisplaced hopefuls orphan-bound.<\/p>\n
\nand eyes that see cut back in spite,
\nas breath like stones
\nfall on each other
\ndiscord(cord) alibis soft lies;<\/p>\n
\nThis moon heaves crescents to my side
\na frailness wells is lost to recall
\ninterned tonight;<\/p>\n
\npurports wind to scattered ash
\nseal the veil of sensuality
\nin mortared eyes of pebbled glass,<\/p>\n
\nskull like trophy on its side
\nshape lips, soft voice and broken symbols
\nfare(well) in time.<\/p>\n
\nspin in contrition
\nand dream like mist,like rain, subsides
\nas pangs like teething lose their comfort,
\nevade this silent passerby.<\/p>\n
\nframe to searching eyes,
\nwords canvas almost speak
\nacross beige mottled isles.<\/p>\n
\nA sentinel guards waste
\nforth form, pastel and lace.<\/p>\n
\ntakes hint between each tone
\nsad glimpse into your smile,<\/p>\n
\nin stray magenta’s,
\nauburn lights descending crowns.
\nLife colors you,<\/p>\n
\nparamours and stifled loves,
\nthe lockets’ blush on flesh cool tinder,
\nthe song of thrush spent on a winter,
\na wanton lover, near
\nand unheard
\ncolors you.<\/p>\n
\nbeating a fast retreat this winter
\nbehind bluffs that bleed thin are
\nhighs scattered behind grace,
\nreceding, receding,
\nI lisp into suicide
\nlash out in daze,
\nthen<\/p>\n
\nbelly and groin grow
\nbloom on opposite walls of steel;
\nstuck in an off-sided game of trump.<\/p>\n
\nhung on cottoned apparition,
\neyes railline, teats votive,
\nfertile for a pretty boy
\nor a kill or
\nanother grind of promise…
\nto pass me by.<\/p>\n
\n<\/strong>
\nTour of force is a breeze lifting the gauze
\nof wound cooled by contraband.
\nAnd wars’ never;
\nand peace never,
\nmakes mirth or<\/p>\n
\nrising up in jump
\nrope
\nrhythm,
\nbleating out these
\nmournful skies over
\nhop-scotch fields,
\nquilted daisies,
\nblown crazy eights.<\/p>\n
\nand dreams never…
\nCircummure poles,<\/p>\n
\ncircling currents of
\ndesperate mass.<\/p>\n
\nsphere of illusion and
\nlilly and cholera and laughter and bedlam,
\never-thickening yoke
\nhold me.<\/p>\n
\nand loves’ never..<\/p>\n
\nor French novelist
\nquick and fluent maneuvers up sen-
\ntence. Hind right on balcony,
\nsorting through pieces of colored glass,
\nnote by note and shape by shape of
\nwritten word..<\/p>\n
\nFlaubert, Bovary, Plath whose
\npoisoned tongue sought immortal passage.
\nThe engineered page<\/p>\n
\nas passion or dream – drives,
\ndevours metaphor and<\/p>\n
\nfinds me lucid in it throes,
\nseduced to catch a feeble phrase which is
\nsomewhat wrenched on return as<\/p>\n
\na brilliant conflagration
\ntranscribed in sparks.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"