We are beggars everyone,
squirming unsure
maggots in prison grits.
We are moons
on delicate flowers
waxing and waning
in unknown tongues
bowing to the muse bitch
keeping one eye
out of the whirlpool
learning hell is velocity
without controls.
4D light spirals spin
horns against our membranes
jump the stall
follow into blindness
where we worship
warm cozy arms we sink into...
Laws of physics allow magic
to move Space-time math
from a wormhole in the dust
of my Beltane shoes.
A mind-mist crinkle of a dream
spirals time, transporting
a poem to a probability wave
of electrons and art.
A prolific Space-time poet
smoking Dark Energy
creates Big Bangs
and multi-verses daily.
Where heaven is a string
of quarks creating poems
extra dimensions of space
make invisible
vibrational patterns;
misty propeller roses
around the heart
where all one imagine lives.
Intrinsic sun mirrors every angle
of dancing wax adverbs
sitting in the light
of a motel bathroom floor.
Goddess of Trojans
in a pocket world beat box
shakes carbonated danger
spews tangled dreams of submission
while feeding magic
word-bending
kangaroos.
Belinda Subraman has been writing poetry since the sixth grade and publishing since college. She had a ten-year run editing and publishing Gypsy Literary Magazine. Six of those ten years were in Germany where she was a Bohemian outcast among officer wives. She edited books by Vergin' Press, among them: Henry Miller and My Big Sur Days by Judson Crews. While in Germany she also published Sanctuary Tape Series which was a mastered compilation of audio poetry and original music from around the world. Recent publication include Red Fez, Tribe Magazine and Pressure Press Presents.
del.icio.us
