A heavy mist rises
out of the valley
like gun smoke, rifling
the air, setting off a time piece
of timelessness.
The sound of dew dripping
from leaves, but no dew felt.
This unmetered rural wetness
that meets me most mornings
ever since I’ve transported
to this mystic realm.
This meditation, this poetry.
A thousand unspoken words
inhabit these fat, yellow-green leaves;
these long limbs.
These crooked Einstein branches.
The figure in the cane
whose greetings each morning
without language haunt me.
The sunless days and moonless nights
are the old paradox
of my new verse.
This poem was published in Small Axe: sx salon(February 2012 issue)
ReplyDeleteHi Nicholas, I enjoyed this - there is a relatively rare taut, crisp and clear visioned presence in your style which I admire and has real potential, I think... Now we are connected, I will be back to check out your more recent work... With Best Wishes Scott www.scotthastie.com
ReplyDeleteThanks bro! Blessed 2015
DeleteRecently I was awarded "Poet of the Year" for the prestigious Red Bones Blues Cafe in Kingston Jamaica where they have monthly poetry and musical performances.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.jamaicaobserver.com/entertainment/-p-Alexander-tops-poetry-awards---p---_18064841