Bouquet of Words
I hear like e.e. cummings
when I’m in your words.
My thoughts trickle down
your neck,
then plash back (astonished)
to your lips
(producing sounds).
My abashed, unfocussed
exposals
(do rather)
achieve such
piquant, plangent
definition
when you aliment
my senses
with your uncanny,
daring
mind.
I feel your thoughts
in my arms
but (so true)
caressing that universe
abounding such
pagination (myriads of
alphabets)
might (well, quite)
implore my tremulous,
nonplussed
thesaurus
some inestimable
(no less)
years long.
I imagined
that I heard
every language
ever once invented
(uttered or not)
in your cosseting
(& limitless)
embrace.
Craig Kurtz resides at Twin Oaks Intentional Community where he writes poetry while simultaneously surviving the dream. Recent work appears in Aerie Literary Journal, Conclave: A Journal of Character, The Criterion: An International Journal in English, Danse Macabre, Penumbra, Poetry Quarterly, Red Fez and The Road Not Taken: A Journal of Formal Poetry.
Copyright © 2015 by Craig Kurtz
Cover Photo by Duane Kirby Jensen