Dasein

by David Sutherland

In bright halts of petals and wreaths in a palanquin's sleeping cargo we bound madly in half embrace trade downhill with up.
In bright halts of petals and wreaths a vivid scene of floating calm twists on a reed's helix of turns and rolls across subtle, imageless thoughts into gravity's journey downhill.
In vivid halts of petals and wreaths, in each breath we exhale, speak soft in warm ennobling cadence for a world descends in perfect grief. A perishing vision sees what can't be seen, as I envision these startling petals and wreaths, retribution failing to flit its harpor stage its muse. Here its mimic, an imperfect order draws darkness over no less profound a heart. What will not burn, we set to fire;
what can't be held send into sleep, into turn by gentle turn of ring worn age, covetable grace beauty and sadness as you spread over this air-woven awning of clouds to defy life's strange author whose groves we supplant with unchallenged wind.
In brights halts of petals and wreaths what can't be tasted, swallow what can't be said, speak. Sow only shadows into moonlight, plant only love, as regret starts each day at sunset.

About the author: David Sutherland has been widely published, with recent pieces appearing in The Hollins Critic, The Northern Michigan Journal and The Reader. He also serves as editor for a publication called Recursive Angel. His collection Between Absolutes has recently been published by Menace Publishing of Alexandria, VA.