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Lupus est homo homini*
by Therese Elaine...Gild the guilt with the comfort of edification through erudite exchange, nothing ventured nothing gained, no need to be a back-seat prophet when the couch is just as good for this particular brand of interaction, a complex pattern of intertwined conceptions, we rattle cages and suck on tongues, all the better for understanding what manner of predators we've become, willing and wanton and wickedly willful...paths converging more tangled then limbs in tempest toss'd nocturnal revelations, machinations of mysteries to be plunged, probed and prodded to open themselves up for a deeper kind of immersion, potential becomes as simple as three words and two gestures, disconnectedness disabled in the face of defiant determination...an epiphany of climax that follows certain hiptrickshifts, words with no human sound become the sole means of communication but it's enough, it's enough, it sees us through to the end of the journey...we'll build a shelter and tame wolves, and though we'll run wild with the pack from time to time and they'll civilize us as much as we bask in our more primitive drives, it all comes together at the moon's rising. 10/30/2009 Author's Note: *Man is wolf to man
Posted on 10/31/2009
Copyright © 2024 Therese Elaine
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Jason Wardell on 11/02/09 at 07:03 AM I missed this. It's good to see you writing. On top of that, this is fantastic. I always love the themes of innate nature, especially when it takes those stuck in erudition out of their normal grounds and sticks them with the wolves. |
| Posted by Rachelle Howe on 11/03/09 at 12:03 PM Humina. Oh man, which rock did I crawl out from under? I've missed this, the intricate details that we press through, like flesh to pelt and back again. |
| Posted by Jared Fladeland on 02/20/10 at 05:36 PM mmm perfectness |
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