“First Hermit on Venus”

I see this state solitary dialogue plunging symbols of Hermit with Venus

On a half shell, pre amble to a movie of gate crashing lovers

Steaming jungle clasped eye over eye, soul over soul grilled or barbequed

Carried outside the world, not conventional not on verbal time

Halves docking in an affectionate space, fluid legends and hot holy forms

Mental racing wings seeking nothing, no air to carry sounds and arid glances

Of nothing implied, a capable cannibal but a powerless cook

Immolated and cremated, whipped or buttered in heathen ovens

What was that primal sound that floundering noun, that  initiation joint

Invocations of familiar navigation, for no one is in this world

Meaning laid out like a map, with flexible boundaries of a bigger sea

Tenderness of death, the soft chant of life fading in her absence

Of chance meetings included in this aberration in the eye of  her arcane

I’ve traveled this expressway to your heart and soul before

I’ve come seaching for a glimmer and a roar at passions shore

copyright Napoleon Brousseau 2012

NaPoWriMo  day 01