For Irina, March 21-22, 2012

For where thou art, there is the world itself
— William Shakespeare

.

.

.

.

1.

You give, honestly, gently, a sultry flower in darkness, writing surprise.
Flow, sew yourself into my life, let your search fall into me, drink this
poem, let it slow you.  I’m a mere minstrel, arcing this tune, walking
the oceans, seeking my still young rain to fissure your flow.  I switch
from fish to dream, dream back to saltwater fish, this alchemy predates
language, predates the purity of symbol; this alchemy as fresh, yet, as
my soft, willing spirit.  I eat omelettes, salads, watch for openness in
gold and silver miracles.  And in you.

2.

Each meaning
ours to marry.  An
intent so romantic its
prayers are rosewater
on the breath.  God
mingles with us, an
actor upon us, tenderly
melding our conception
as our calendar
harmonises with
desire.

I warm myth; I
load voice until
it’s fast; I decorate
breath into ornament.
Your blouse breathes
my name, clear of words
your sea falls low with
your silken grace.
You are worth each
small thing
I offer.

Passion is a
whorl a universe
an unceasing
exquisite blindness.
We master our
dreams, enchant
our chord into
one sky, rich,
profound as life.
We flavour each
other.

Glide into my
flight.  Arch into
my fault-lines;
flake me, wet
me.  And in your
sails, power me
divine, arrow my
seed, ancient as
the yielding wind
naming unnamed
remarkableness.

3.

Our daughter moves / to experience / sometimes
immoderate / always faithful / too quick a
nature sometimes / a gift for our foundations /
she is silver / gold quickness / angular / rising
a coloured equation / I don’t understand / Polish
inscribes its graphology / between midnight & noon
every time assents / an unexpected one / as you /
ultimate / as ground any parallel universe that
creaks understands brings.

4.

faith, beloved.  let our attention excite.

let our dominions collide / knit /
…………………………………………………play

move between

god
&
our
humanness.

you love to

iron to
learn the
………how why

i yield to you
   ……….my small

                                      supply
………………………….of objects
………………………….principles
………………………….preoccupations

faith,

the grace
t.o land

approach me, Irina,
i am in love

* * * * *

Michael Fitzgerald-Clarke has this year launched The South Townsville micro poetry journal and he welcomes submissions of a 30 lines or fewer poem from any of Dr. Hurley’s readers and contributors.  If Michael could have one wish in life, he would give that wish away. michael(dot)fitzgeraldclarke(at)gmail(dot)com. 

His other contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

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  1. Dr. Hurley’s Digest: Vol. II, Week 9 « Dr. Hurley's Snake-Oil Cure

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