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Poetic Interlude VI: AMALGAMATED MAN


AMALGAMATED MAN

I am colored like an ashen dawn
and sprout cotton from atop my head.
Dirt, black and rich, crumbles between my toes
and pure clean water, a river's worth
of salutation full of fishes
and exotic life, flows from my heart.

Bearing the crest of my many colors;
the greens and golds, the reds, yellow, blue,
electric blue, indigo cerulean.
A rainbow unfurls about my hips,
bleeding out and staining brittle parchments
inscribed with the secret equations
written down in God's secret language.

My mouth is a fount of Eternity.
All things, great and small, real or indifferent,
great plumes of substance, spring from my loins.
My legs are tree trunks, my hands the branches.
My eyes are gaping holes of flame
as I peer into a volcano's throat,
matching its primal scream with my own.
I bear witness to a panoramic
view of gently rolling meadows,
soaring mountains and fathomless oceans.
Dander falls from my scalp, whitening
the fields with freshly blown snow.

I am Gabriel's trumpet. Angelic.
A living instrument of the green Earth.
My soul throbbing with the pent up energies
that lie chambered within her core.

Here I am. An amalgamated man.
A living metaphor. My moods flashing
and shifting like the changing seasons
as I rotate slowly about God's glory,
holding tight to the wavering moon,
to my lover, my wife, my friend.
Keeping counsel with the sun,
dancing along the horizon's edge,
weaver of celestial destinies
and all heavenly dreams of creation.

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