Poetry Drawer: Two Poems by Stephen Mead


First there’s hurt,
then the going glows golden,
ruby in center, blue nimbus at tip.

All of this whiteness
motion melts
sensuous, scientific, earth solid

Clay of your clay, of mine,
blood beating,

every nerve endings

Each chemistry more chemical
hovers rhythmic essence, a transposition,
a rearrangement, navigation

riveting in, the assemblage
a pilgrimage:

Lead us or lose us
through this intimate montage.


Of your ankles,
mouth’s view down here where
a country of cats chasing crickets &
drop cloth impressions for paintings
are the horizons our tenderness contours…

This floor, this studio,
Autumn time
with not a thing as sunset clear
but the light’s white tang
suffused with the whole range
of yellow’s spectrum
against knees sloping up &
the plateaus of calves &
ribs as a boat
my probing nose nudges
as life itself is nudging us:

Live this. Live this now.

Poetry Drawer: Let Me Be Weak by Stephen Mead

Poetry Drawer: Lowering The Lights by Stephen Mead

Inky Interview Special: Stephen Mead, Poet and Multi-Media Artist from Albany NY

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