The man is bliss.

a tall, thin-limbed fellow
got a fork in his mouth
in the instant, he’s 
mistaken for hungry

“how you gonna let him dig when
he ain’t got no bones?”

because he can’t sing
	with a knife 
	or a shovel

look, it’s only his great
wobbling jelly eyes, his fragile 
marrow nose that 
show us nothing is 
	recognizable
inside the radio mind maze

the illusion is 
	impenetrable 
round, warm voices of persuasion
	molecules
	mountains 
a raging slide inside the
shallow dirt mine

where it makes no difference if
the art of the tree and the 
equilibrium of the 
	moon are equal
since dirt is everywhere anyway

nothing matters but 
	the still life
the picture inside your mind

10 thoughts on “The man is bliss.

  1. And the pictures inside your mind are deep! Worthy of a second, and third read, just absorbing the lines, the intent. I love the second to the last stanza, particularly:

    “makes no difference if
    the art of the tree and the
    equilibrium of the
    moon are equal”

    So original and thought-provoking.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, J. I’ve been in the mood to experiment with my poetry lately. And I am happy with the way this one turned out. I also like the phrase “transformative power.” I hope you’re well. 🙂

      Like

  2. Wow – so intriguing! What images are conjured up. My reading halted at this verse:
    the illusion is
    impenetrable
    round, warm voices of persuasion
    molecules
    mountains
    a raging slide inside the
    shallow dirt mine

    It just resonates and I’ve no idea why, but maybe that’s fine :>)

    Liked by 1 person

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