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Poems from Divine Nostalgia by Jennifer Ferraro ©2002
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The
blood we crave is our own
and
yet mighty
is the need to drown
and
mightier to save to
cup the head that has bobbed
under,
full of dark prayers sent
to wander full
of white dresses with rumors of flowers
oh
this love is god’s hunger sent
wandering in the clover
dancing
flailing in the waving heather with
a voice torn asunder
by
denials, forever. The
blood we crave is a quiet drummer
a
torn-asunder mother the
blood we crave is our own
and
yet we crave another.
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And the Rest Is Nonsense
I
don’t care if I’m a dreamer— dreaming
of the perfect lover is
dreaming of You— and
I can use such vivid colors imagining
what’s within your boundaries I
stay drunk for hours in end; but
then of course that passes and
I stumble around mumbling again creating
nothing. Whether
You create me or I create You, it
doesn’t matter. and
been drunk and
the rest is nonsense.
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What
garment shall I wear as
I set out on my dawn journey to
the heart of my own heart and the world? There
is a secret only I know, it
has entered through the gates of my senses, it
takes me in its arms that are sometimes like a
river, sometimes like a fragrance, always like
an invitation. I
will not be wearing the rough cloth of
the renunciant, I will be decked in wedding clothes
on
that morning fresh and full of
promise, when
I enter for good the river’s arms, and am entered by the deepest fragrance.
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email: jferraro28@hotmail. com
Last update: April 20, 2004