Strolling through this garden... there, a flower I see, Lily:
Clove carnation? No, love—really—this is a We-Lily!
No Dahlia Belladonna, no Fame, Femme Fatale-ity
Will be the forlorn, slitting fate of you and me, Lily!!
No Daisy offerings of flawed nacre white Versailles Peace
Within mirrors of lies in a slippery spree, Lily.
No Erica's hassling in Heather's pastoral preaching.
So bored the Valley cousins are out of their glee, Lily!
No rainbows of Iris, water brewed and fleeting bound in
Our Psychedelic, Hallucinogenic tea, Lily!?!
No Jasmine bestowed by the deities of the Nile, fertile,
Pungent soaking worship from a blind devotee, Lily.
No Rose thorns in cotton sheets; Blood spilled, crimson currency
Of sacrifice with no trust-back check guarantee, Lily!!!
No hasty Veronica, a speed trial of sharp tangled
Fancies—won't you ask why the Incas bent their knee, Lily?
No Violet, with her tokens of love. Mythic heartsease.
With Vanilla modesty, everyone's her bee, Lily!
We are Rebirth, from petal feathers to pollen embers.
But I'm Henry... you, a flower, cannot agree, Lily.
YOU ARE READING
The Mind's Pursuit of Indefinite Intentions
PoesiaA collection of poems from the haiku, sonnet, and ghazal forms written for as a foolish quest to bleed randomness into meaning and back again, just like this description you are just reading. In other words, this anthology constitutes my exercise in...
