Two Poems by Terry Mulert

The original
I walk on legs
of parasites
feet of rotten pears
with the tongue
of a perfect hibiscus
my fingers have come unglued
my hands are stitched together
bags of horse hair
my eyes
are rose colored
perfume vials
my dreams have begun
to win arguments
sometimes at night I climb onto rooftops
and watch myself sleep
between the rows of corn
that have taken my name
and not apologized.
If we knew
We have grown
deaf to colors
and the names
of unknown things
the tangled beauty
of our darkest pain
is the unseen purple
root parting with the sky
we have bargained
light for a deeper place
where wings turn
into the good taste of earth.

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About Miriam Sagan

I'm blogging about poetry, land art, haiku, women artists, road trips, and Baba Yaga at Miriam's Well ( The well is ALWAYS looking to publish poetry on our themes, sudden fiction, and guest bloggers and musers.

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