Beyond understanding, in

Theatres of hardihood and hope,

Where ideating YOU in warm

Glowing candles, reclining nude

Along threadbare silhouettes,

Became a raging obsession,

Eye, the willing potter, with

Yearning hands, determined

To enshrine what makes

YOU

YOU,

ME,

A warrior with his sword,

Hoping to transcend the fetters

Of reason and fear to espouse verdant

Fields of cumbered fragrances where

Colors coalesce and desire molds

Faces having smooth features

Honeyed by LUSH arias

And contentment …

Spinning furiously

A POTTERS WHEEL,

Hands struggling to form

The shapes EYE visualized,

Over and again wedging wet

Clay to remove unwanted air,

Cutting apart and re-forming in

A different orientation, your

Intoxicating ESSENCE

Within me, in

Countless ambitions,

DEVOURING tender

Berries and fragrant moist

Lips blossoming in twilight’s

Dark caves …

(Cast down too hard

The clay distorted, I know

That now)

All in a vain effort to

Make more malleable the

Magnificence I coveted…

Blanketed

In pure white sand,

I awoke UNDONE with

Only air on my hands and

Your perfume on my tongue …

Richard Lloyd Cederberg

Copyright 2008