Berry - Cindy Bishop

[Larry Robinson]

Berry

Figural lugers rove-ovalling over ever dagger-doomed time-bend.
Sectioned seconds severed slightly, silently.
Space-slivers tomb-riddled busily biding dial-driven dome-dance, endemerail.
The minotaur a monitor a moonitude, dune-dumb, dancing.

Quiet please, a berry is breaking.
The juice is trickling strictly sweetly, 
a temple treble, an ice-lit sky court,
a deep-pillared pentagonal pale-paved haven.

Five garden marble-maids breathe entrance, bow arches.
Astrally assembled, a circle assuming,
still-stationed sacredly, aspiring to spiral.

Split-lifted at prayer-point, swirl-hurling through the midnight noon.
Petalpure power pipe-reeling through ringrich rim-locks,
unpeeling the first mystery fruits myth-rhythmically.

Quiet please, a berry is breaking.
The pain is trickling strictly sweetly.
The stem is still ecstatic.

	- Cindy Bishop