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A Pearl Far Away From Its Shell
GC (fall '72 / live on on the alfonsina storni side of florida)

A Pearl Far Away From Its Shell

Poem By gregory collins

You have an innocent smile that touches my
shoulders. Vowels supported by darkness itself.

But i can can't see death pushing aside the
roots of life: Life is a long meditative walk

about why the smell of pollen reminds one
of the soul. So why do we take fire onto ourselves,

that ends in the form of prayer. The fact that
such a gentle song will decompose my body.

My nose, blankly sniffing, dreams a dream.
I have an invisable flag from under falling leaves,

and it is still summer to the bones of the tree.
To the merchant of the earth and the country visited.

The fact that i loved you all through the night
behind an anchor. Behind the unlucky year

losing fingernails. As the chandelier of my soul
has countless eggs, and wisdom is wearing baskets

that will always hang around like this. I will always
change at any minute, as i have never been able

to dry up the tears; The color of the sky from
the bulb factory of heaven. Where they are reaching

as far out, as there are hands that are hungry
that i stuff my stomach with: That i dig down into

the grave in the dark, the place my heart is thinner
just for vain pride. Just to be a stained handkerchief

is all i remember. That is when i close my eyes.
That is from time to time, the ruthless interruption

of the outside world. The astonishing clarity of our souls
hung on wooden racks: infinitely beautiful. Infinitely friends

with what lies ahead, and who knows the mystery, and
why it is then, the start of a small war on the sound

of the sound of the sea. Why is a pearl far away from its shell,
the beggining and end of so many journies, i think resistance is reason alone.

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Comments (2)

Mister Collins! Jesus H. Christ that was the prettiest thing I've read in a while.
Wowser.... this was so damn beautiful. Two lines stuck out to me, the first being 'The color of the sky from the bulb factory of heaven' and the other one 'the start of a small war on the sound of the sound of the sea' - both absolutely blinding! That second line reminded me of EE Cummings' poem “I carry your heart with me” where it says “(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life) ” – I absolutely love this poem. HG: -) xx


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