from Presence
we gave divided houses
child stand up anyway
hierarchy is no symmetry
learn when we're lying
and reweave the tapestry
you aren't our image
but rather our likeness
take part leaving's half
O semblance to assemble
split the difference between
our afterglow and absence
futures make echoes motifs
generations amplify a belief
our heirloom despair ill-fits
resist our eager silencing
here is whatever's insisted
contexts shift like desert
sand within the horizonless
we've no other referents
but ourselves in iterations
mirage ideal and shadow
sweep and pivot around
the mind's numberless dial
word must become bond
without trust we're lost
to bull-headed panic by
the forest of ourselves
why decorate a mausoleum
or deceive upon maps
why shun old travelers
why bequeath youth traps
poet curate life's museum
child mend this world
fell our crooked pillars
fight noise's roaring static
reconcile these ages for
threefold cords are not
easily broken though all
can break and shall
tame time's fierce cages
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Author's Note
from Meridian (Glass Lyre Press, 2016) available at Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Meridian-Raymond-Gibson/dp/1941783201 and Barnes & Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/meridian-raymond-gibson/1124127463
Other stories by Raymond Gibson
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A pure clarion call. This: "...without trust we're lost to bull-headed panic by the forest of ourselves..." ^
I love the crescendo and the ending.
"...poet curate life's museum." Oh, do.*
Well done. I especially like "heirloom despair" I guess it never goes away.
time's fierce cages
Could do with some editing and restructuring.