Outside Born

Born in the center of a Mother
pre-established
already willed so by some exterior power
motivated by another force
motivated by a best bet
by an instinct
cultivated by an interior other.

Son the moon is full
forgetting an infinitesimal

Melting decomposition finds lungs forever full,
unasking and quenched.
The tide is a tumbler smoothing rough edges,
keeping cool under bridges swarthy with blackened green moss.

A family is born from an alphabetic sequence.
Sounds separate and find themselves expressing
permutation free from repetition.

But never free from anything.

Nice, a very suitable one for a philosophy forum.

Welcome Back Alexis!

Long time no see.

Your poem, as ever, is crypto-bizzare.

The frist line caught me good: Born in the center of a Mother

Such an obvious statement, but yet it brings a new kind of perspective, a fresh way of expressing the process and obervsation of being pregnant.

Colinsign, i know you’ve read a good deal of my work. do you find my writing too esoteric in the end?

i have read quite a lot of your poetry.
i find it highly obscure. cryptic.
mystifying…

too esoteric?

quite possibly.
how do you feel about your writing?
does it speak to you?

it all depends what you are trying to achieve
with your words?

i’m pretty sure i could sit
and tease over your poems
for a long time
lots of interesting thoughts conveyed
and an unusual manner…

Keep cultivating your words!