Cantalena - poem by George Freek (clouds, wisdom, apocalyptic) - full page

« Back to issue 39
These clouds are from the arctic.
They unnerve me
with apocalyptic unravelings.
I don’t grasp such arcane wisdom.
Night hangs from the branches
in desultory sobriety.
Is it a judgment on my morals
or my cardiovascular system?

Time moves like a mudslide.
It carries me with it,
as stars enact their ceremonies
like bats in a cave—
shadows in wandering moonlight,
metamorphing into fossils
in their inscrutable way
from love or fear or dismay.

Share: 
Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter
Share on Reddit
Pin It
Embed

About George Freek


1 0
I can't make it interesting if there's nothing interesting there. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, the most interesting thing in my life is the fact that I write poetry and plays (and often get the poetry published and the plays produced.)

0 comments
Discussion
You must be a Red Fez member to comment.
There are no comments yet...

Graphic of the Week

Thursday, February 4th, 2016

Poem of the Week

Saturday, February 6th, 2016

Most Popular Story This Week

Working:

IT WAS SAN FRANCISCO, Indian summer, the October sky blue and enormous. It was mid-afternoon in the Mission district...
Working
by William Taylor Jr