Lyrical labor

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I focus my thoughts until they are crystallized matter, dripping with ether.

Words form like geodes in the womb of the great mother.

They are born upon the page.

Their mangled umbilical cords thresh violently, oozing with fresh ink.

The odor is sickening…

I regurgitate adverbs and nouns until my belly is empty.

The taste of leaded truths alchemized into golden lies in my mouth.

I taste its arid perfection against my tongue.

The darkness of my DNA scarred across the fresh white.

I bellow in delight.

A poem is born.

©R.Marrs 2014.


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