“…one clean, bursting, raptured ideal…”…my poem
The pushing, potent, heaving…
Poesy
This is, nearly, what it’s like.
Magma flowing cool, I think,
is nearly right,
the swelling flow,
quite nearly right.
The pushing, potent,
familiar overflowing burden,
is quite nearly truly right.
The heaving rush in one clean moment,
of one clean, bursting, raptured ideal,
it speaks the straining gush of simple words
that stream around and through,
cool fire sparking
as they merge and touch
and match and lodge together.
This is nearly, quite truly,
nearly certain,
quite nearly right.
April 3, 1996
Sanibel Island, Florida
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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2023 All rights reserved.
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“Finis,” my thoughts (my poem)
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