(3)… by Rusty Kjarvik



empty Blown mind

towed current
        pulled slow

        drifted away


        fingers following new lines

a purveyance through wood and metal
                traced rhythmically
                        moving away
                        from paper’s raw form

                        in touching the soft grain of a graphite pen

the resonant breath
        cold and worn thought
        strained to perfect the blue must of why

        expressed through thick unworn time

virgin thorn brush
        frame lilting strong above
of artistic madness & the careless face

in the jokester’s foam and rust

upbringing up mathematical ladder-works

        pierced with a sorry and frayed built-in lung

the pulse breaking off the tops of widow’s peak waves

        blushing high over the coastal horizon

a piercing thought
that boiled in the mind’s own brain
an intuitive question

        with an answer as certain as death in the next step

and raised thoughtless to the thickening deep
        an abysmal pace precedes the broken wife
                staring fast beyond the wild break
                forcing herself to see Love break
over the celestial mast
        and its foreign page

        burned as it were by the son’s inglorious risen haze

casting tears into a bewildered day
drying the dew-frosted snout of a log cabin deer
        faintly seen through the savage brush
                formed out of clear beaming space
                        in a second’s timeless gesture
                        upwards from the leaf
                        poking sure from soil’s infamous grasp
                                human souls prying with sheer might
                        and the imaginative will of the heavens
                                to escape from the tomb
                a living corpse
                        bruised and swollen with light

                        and the golden icicle flesh of a new species

needing to supersede man’s greatest guess
throughout history
                that the timeless prevails
                archaic wisdom thrives
                        in rocks inflamed
                        with the only sacred ardor
                        stabilizing our footstep ground
                                over the inner turnings
                                        of a worshiped Earth
                                                whose center remains
                                                an unresolved cleft

in the rights
        and passionate longing
                given to a miracle
                        lying between animal disease
                        and human sex


Rusty Kjarvik is a writer, musician and artist. Poetry publications include Poydras Review (August 2012), Danse Macabre, (July 2012). With short fiction in Haggard & Halloo (May 2012), and visual art for the cover of Eskimo Pie (July, August, September 2012), Kjarvik also blogs (www.rkjarvik.blogspot.com) and performs world music.

Copyright © 2013 by Rusty Kjarvik





4 thoughts on “(3)… by Rusty Kjarvik

  1. Rusty Kjarvik’s language augments moving images and imagination of major epiphanies in these sequences on an immense philosophical scale with an A tonal modernist musicality.

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