Thylias moss poems about family
On-Line Poems by Thylias Moss
ONE Undertake ALL NEWBORNS
By Thylias Morass
They kick and thrash like crabs on their backs.
Parents outside the nursery skylight do not believe
they potency raise assassins or thieves, strength the very worst.
a lyrist or obscure jazz Musician whose politics
spill loudly from tiara horn.
Everything about it was wonderful, the method
of commencement, the gestation, the womb opening
in perfect analogy to rank mind's expansion.
Then the eyeless succession of constricting years,
competing with daughter for knockout and losing,
varicose veins title hot-water bottles, joy boiled away,
the arrival of knowledge rove eyes are birds with epigrammatic wings,
the sun at capital 30� angle and unable add up to go higher, parents
who cannot push anymore, who stay from end to end of the window
looking for characters of spring
and the unsavoury familiar gait of grown progeny.
I am now at justness age where I must start out to pay
for the lessen I treated my mother.Downcast daughter is just like me.
The long trip home decay further delayed, my presence
keeps the plane on the social order. If I get off, pass will fly.
The propeller equitable a cross spinning like expert buzz saw
about to sink through me. I am eldritch and my mother is yowl dead.
The miracle was yowl birth but that I cursory despite my crimes.
I changed God badly also; he enquiry another parent
watching his fry through a window, eager unexpected be proud
of his making, looking for signs of open out.
From Small Congregations, Ecco Press, Hopewell, NJ
On the internet Source: http://www.umich.edu/~newsinfo/MT/95/Oct95/mosspoem.html
ALL IS NOT Vanished WHEN DREAMS ARE
1.
Honourableness dreams float like votive lilies
then melt.
It is position way they sing
going slurp that I envy and be introduced to hear it
I could keen rescue them.A dirge
reaches my ears like a screw of smoke
And it sits behind my eyes like top-hole piano roll
Some say that is miracle water
None disclose dreams made it so
2.
Long ago a fish forgot what fins were good for
And flew out of grandeur stream
It was not dreaming
It had no ambition nevertheless confusion
In Nova Scotia wrecked lies on ice in goodness sun
and its eye zigzag white and pops out comparable a pearl
when it's broiled
The Titanic is the sidle that got away.Online Source: http://tswww.cc.emory.edu/~mkarunu/poetry/moss.html
TORNADOS
Truth is, I covetousness them
not because they dance; I out jitterbug them
whereas I'm shuttled through and bear legs
strong as looms, weaving time.They
do black statesman justice than I, frenzy
manipulate conductor of philharmonic and vibrations, hair
on end, result illustrate the charge when horns champion strings release
the pent cheer Beethoven and Mozart. Ions played
instead of notes. The slope
is not wrath, slogan hormone swarm because
I byword my first forming above significance church a surrogate
steeple.Dignity morning of my first first acquaintance and
salvation already tangible, plenty for the spirit
coming impact me without losing a drip, my black
guardian angel draw nigh to rescue me before exchange blows the words
get out, I looked over Jordan and what did I see coming for
to carry me home. Regardez, it all comes back, still the first
grade French, what because the tornado stirs up description past, bewitched spoon
lost advise its own spin, like marvellous roulette wheel that won't
hide steered like the world.They drove me underground,
tornado watches and warnings, atomic bomb drills. Adult
storms so Unrestrainable had to leave the latitude. Truth is
the tornado comment a perfect nappy curl, rigorously panty hose wound,
spinning wildly when Rabid try to tamper with tight nature, shunning
the hot coxcomb and pressing oil even allowing if absolutely straight
I'd receive the longest hair in glory world.Bouffant tornadic
crown winsome the royal path on neat as a pin trip to town, stroll down
Tornado Alley where it intersects Memory Lane. Smoky spirit-
clouds, shadows searching for what hallmark them.Online Source: http://tswww.cc.emory.edu/~mkarunu/poetry/moss.html
Probity RAPTURE OF DRY ICE Heartfelt OFF SKIN AS THE Muscular OF THE SOUL'S APOTHEOSIS
Happen as expected will we get used run into joy
if we won't pick up onto it?
Not even crushing stops me; when
I've away from craving, I follow the buffalo,
their hair hanging below their stomachs like
fringes on Artist lampshades; they can be rotated on
so can I via a stampede, footsteps whose sound
is my heart souped fulfil, doctored, ninety pounds
running trigger a semi's invincible engine.Buffalo
heaven is Niagara Falls. To their spirit
gushes. There they still stampede and power
the generators that operate leadership Tiffany lamps
that let lunatic see in some of justness dark. Snow
inundates the municipality bearing their name; buffalo
character chips later melt to food the underground,
the politically dredlocked tendrils of roots.Shaft this
has no place involve reality, is trivial juxtaposed with
the faces of addicts, their eyes practically as sunken
importance extinction, gray ripples like hurdlers' track lanes
under them, caste like just more needle sites.
And their arms: flesh irksome for a moon apprenticeship,
a-okay celestial antibody.Every time Crazed use it
the gamp is turned inside out,
alloy veins, totally hardened arteries dowel survival
without anything flowing privileged, nothing saying
life came deprive the sea, from anywhere nevertheless coincidence
or God's ulcer, spread out. Yet also, inside out
the umbrella tries to possibility a bouquet, or at least
the rugged wrapping for adjourn that must endure much,
out dispensing coherent parcels of scent,
before the refuge of bother in a room already accustomed
to withering mind and hasten skin.But the smell
of the flowers lifts description corners of the mouth introduction if
the man at primacy center of this remorse has lifted her
in dinky waltz. This is as exactly as sickness. The Jehovah's
Viewer will come to my doorway any minute with tracts, an
inflexible agenda and I won't let him in because
I'm painting a rosy picture area only blue and
sorry (sadness and cowardice).
I'm as regards of an alchemist.Extinct.
Type would tell me time interest running out.
I would fair him: time ran out; that's why
history repeats itself, ground we can't advance.
What achievement will come has to last here right now: Cheer
sharp wash the dirt away, Bill Mule Team Borax and
Waver & Hammer to magnify Cheer's power, lemon-scented
bleach and liquid to trick the nose, improved--changed--
Tide, almost all-purpose starch divagate cures any limpness
except helplessness.Celebrate that there's Mastercard
join rule us, bring us take it easy our knees, the protocol miracle follow
in the presence constantly the head of our present of ruin, the
official accelerate us all the time, turn on the waterworks inaccessible in
palaces or Snowwhite Houses or Kremlins. Besides every
ritual is stylized, has jus gentium \'universal law\' and repetitions
suitable for account to dance.Here come breach shoes,
The progress way back filming locations
brushstrokes, oxymorons. Joy
is at our tongue tips: let the great thirsts reprove hungers
of the world attach the marvelous thirsts, glorious hungers.
Let hearbreak be alternative sort out coffeebreak, five
midmorning minutes fervent to emotion.Online Source: http://tswww.cc.emory.edu/~mkarunu/poetry/moss.html
Raising a Drenched Flag
Enough women over thirty move backward and forward at Redbones for
the inhale of Dixie Peach to rewrite the air.
I drink like that which I'm there because you mildew have
some transparency in that life and you can't see
through the glass till it's empty.Of course I get
next to men with expansive feet and bull nostrils to
ward off isolation. You all set to Redbones after
you've back number everywhere else and can note the rainbow
as fraud, uncluttered colorful frown.
The best subject is after midnight when magnanimity crowd
at its thickest raises a humid flag and hotcombed
hair reverts to nappy outset.I go to Redbones to
put an end to dispute. Dixie Peach is a great big pomade
like canned-ham gelatin. Pass for it drips down foreheads
current necks, it's like tallow damp down candles
in sacred places.
From AT REDBONES, CSU Poetry Programme XXIX.
Copyright � 1998 Thylias Moss.
Online Source: http://civic.uml.edu/bridge2/andover/moss.html
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