Rivers Of The Universe Poem by Leon Moon

Rivers of the Universe
Exile marble neophytes
In ducts faithless as Dawn:
Such freedom condemned to verse,
Enslaved by ancient waters
Guiding the washing of hands,
Projects birds as ink through stone
Flying home on wood-stage lights.

Tight as air, hollow as bone
In fury these words were made
(That of hare-bound gravity)
In streams as bald as meaning:
The voices inherited,
Tugged from the bitter-rock pulse,
Crack yolk from each step o' wounds
Wasting the year's split-end curse. —

Enslaving the Sun's orbit
On chrome keys in jigsaw wind,
Motionless eyes recite verse
Burning the vale's oil to sounds
Erecting life in the mind:
Breathing as his monument
Often the Poet will sit
And regress to all that's known.