Damnable Moderation

Brady Bowen 1973 (Louisiana)

I'll just sit right here
in this sleepy three pm noonblaze
this is the searing crucible of July
when steam rises from rainwashed streets
barometric haghands around your neck
squeezing the breath from the me.

I want that nursery rhyme sunshine
Send Oberon's rays brilliantly arrayed
you know Im right I want newborn earthlight
the evergloaming of Elysium; a brush of stars
recall these stabby photonic railroad spikes
trumpet this infantry of the iris back home

We sat there, yes just right there no THERE
man that everblaze bathed us squeaky-like
it was the required warmth only, the median
can't take too much, we'll lose our seas
the ones he called to wake the spark
when Sol set the seas to quickening

The grinding growing time came with her
but it wasn't aimed never rifle-sighted
her heaviness-crippled soul a cistern
yellow gold flashed bright in jaded eyes
be careful love that smile is wine
a cup of solace only now; not too much

Not too much.
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Written on May 25, 2022

Submitted by BradyB999 on May 25, 2022

Modified by BradyB999 on May 25, 2022

57 sec read

Quick analysis:

Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 971
Words 185
Stanzas 5
Stanza Lengths 6, 6, 6, 6, 1

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