Take the rope's twisted
its winding down through this
complication of threads, these coils
and loops and knots. Here you will
find hair and branches, snarl of fibers
and boughs. Take it with your eyes.
You will find that tangle is the rose
and the essence of rose - scent of rose
oil mixed with bruised mint. Or large
seaweeds that have gotten round the keel.
Hear mermaids sing their tangled
medley, breath from their human
breasts rising from ocean floor, jumbled
network, perplexed and perplexing state.
Birds with women's faces skim around
the masts. You may find yourself muddled
by streams or paths no map can separate,
confused assemblage, like a bull's ferocious
head jammed on the body of a muscular
man or a lion with an eagle's rifling wings.
If you've any comments on
this poem, Steve Klepetar would
be pleased to hear from you.