seeds of foretelling

I.
the instrument of verse dare not
catch hold of the reed that counts

each admonished preposition wishing
to join in, adjunct, contra, sideways

as two lateral geometries isomorphize
as two mismatched galaxies fuse

their stars into becoming nonsense;
the incarnate verb goes missing.

II.
the flint is girded and there is talk
of how they laid siege to the town

that fled the scene that bled the
song that read the signs of fire; the

flint is beginning to see the child
of fate that marks the beginning of

tomorrow.

III.
the sorry ending of the meandering
village tale goes out to sea and

brings the cup of reason a leaf,
an adverb and a frowning war, to

be clever in anticipation, to know
what every mad knife swells to cut.

6 comments on “seeds of foretelling

  1. thotpurge says:

    “incarnate verb goes missing”… i’m going to be thinking about this for quite a while!

    • huzaifazoom says:

      It was after a few sweat-out poems that this one came trickling through. Trickly ones generally fare better than sweat-out ones, but trickles are no guarantee. So I am glad you liked it, thanks 🙂

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