Poetry Issue 15

   Issue #17 : July-December 2012

Peter Richards

Garland Cave

      Where are the indestructibles
      tell them we’ve come by way a fragrance
      leaves chastity to the fidget the fidget

      to the jar and chrome to its vigilance
      schooled as we are in the sensation
      in the reaches in the sun sun cockled

      sun plowing one of its own whitenings
      and ceaseless were the flowers even
      then we could say the cave was the garland

      cave the one shall we say painted more
      fully wreathed in considerables even then
      she was the swift the sun made might it

      keep us mining the whitened flower
      the corals the moving along now well inside
      the sun O sun already fallen on the recently

      drown the sea your braid of many loves