Basket of Braids

original poetry with reading

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Basket of Braids

I.

The sun's heat through clear panes
bringing love-vigor and madness,
a basket of wheat
containing strange things
nestled beneath the grains
but which only emerge behind closed doors.

Allow me to stroll to the storeroom
in midday, no one expects insanity
in spring; let me see the stock
leftover from winter,
let me purvey
the goods on the shelves that cling:
pickled vegetables
locked in webbed adhesion.
Let me select supper in seclusion.

Allow me to repeat fantasies
under my breath
on the long
walk
back
to the cottage.

II.

Departing my door
I slant
Upwards, always,
Along the swaths of cement
I advocate
for suffrage of subtle awareness:
selecting temperatures, contours,
pneumatics for bent legs, humidity.

Elements swirl and transmogrify,
so kind as to hide their operations
from my easily excitable eye.

Thought becomes a pair of knees
and pressure of toes on pavement;
I am a mechanical crane beautified,
overgrown by flowering vines
feeding on iron,
my structural integrity
gradually compromised by life's delicacy.

III.

The night's insensate warmth,
a burgeoning love-wildness—
bamboo turmoil of time canceled.

In the alternation of extremes,
I catch a glimpse
of the silent furnace of dreams
which only hints at the true pattern
beneath the grain.

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Written by
@d-pend
4/12/18
.
Photos by
Wayne Benedet

.
1 — "Awakening" [cropped]
2 — "Hallowed Ground"
3 — "Sacrificial Harvest"

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