Wednesday, 29 February 2012

Higgs The Poet


Through the broken atoms
of his lexicon,
in thoughts constrained
by tidy words, he seeks
a deeper sense, foregone.

Syllables spin wildly
in pervading emptiness,
the ovum of thought,
colliding to blast
more meaning out of less.

Before the tree, the fruit, the serpent
(for the serpent to be heard),
lying without shape or form:
in the beginning was the word.





(Chosen as 'Editor's Pick' @Poetrycircle.com
Feb. 2012)
Published in 'Kettle and Yarn' on line journal 11/2012