All I Behold Clandestine


There is no tension between the tree leaf and the shadow wavering

wind breaths blowing from beneath disheveled hair.

The writing volcanoed from out of hiding in its tiny alcove,

from its universe of all I behold clandestine

to any attempts to control or mold from experience.

All the rusty artifacts of antiquated memories

await in dusty sheds for my

cracking open a corridor of light.

Recollection, that collection of meaning

laying dormant under the rubble of echoes.

Words, broken letters,

strewn in the aisles of an elusive narrative,

now raised to the touch of probing fingers.

There’s often more than just this flow of thoughts

to allign one’s attention,

this subtle ascension

intercepting sun shafts,

bearing the spare impression of invisible footsteps,

the muse exists partially formed

in its dim-lit reality of far off glances.

It’s keeping distance

with a cold kind of charismatic resistance

to the information I volunteer to it.

This communication,

this aka body extension,

akin to a staff that reaches out

and taps gently over condemned ground.

With unsteady spontaneity,

akin to Coltrane,

taking a simple progression and improvising,

seeing what can be accomplished inside of a circle,

making the edges appear nonexistent,

awash with sea they disappear overboard,

seize the harmony, the discord,

fractured or polished, it knows no reward.

Poetry in every paused breath

confronts the poverty

of endless mechanical death.

Paper never proposes the limitations of its illusionary borders.

The abyss is at the foot of every table to peer into,

to reach through and pull out a dripping fist

from its ink-black mysteriousness.

Now holding seeds and waiting for instruction.

To cast the lead in this loose production

of reason usurped by desire.

Balanced on this tightrope,

perched bird on the wire,

full of repetitive motion, initiating fire

creating this illusion,

like a conjurer’s shadow

on rust colored peeling walls,

a suspension of belief willingly follows.


4 thoughts on “All I Behold Clandestine

  1. nicktakis2012 says:

    dom ,does the created illusion take the place of beliefs that you somehow got stuck with. or is it just a reality you want to enter.

  2. domtakis says:

    Good question. I think when one is arrested by a momentary inspiration, it isn’t necessarily important whether it is an illusion or so called reality but that the individual experience it fully so as to become a bridge for others through their work. This may require a suspension of belief.

  3. I really DO wish I had something intelligent to say to you. Sme witty compliment. Something….anything.
    ::::humble bow::::
    Thank you for following. I hope you enjoy and I lo forward to reading MUCH more of yours. Cheers!

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