Moonflower (Ipomoea alba) opening at sunset---
Moonfower opening early one late, rainy afternoon.
Ipomoea or The Art of Clinging
By Marion
No one is free.
Freedom is an illusion.
Your room is not there.
Nobody cares.
the ipomoea instinctively
reaches up to the sky
clinging to whatever's near
Nothing thrives in
total isolation.
There is no detachment
in nature.
notknowing is
nopain
up, up, up...
ignorance truly is bliss.
What was once green,
vibrant & juicy
is now dried up, brown
& useless....useless!!!!
even a poet's gypsy soul
can be bound & knotted,
wither & die in isolation---
why? death always wins...
We're all alone.
you'll wane, too
I'm warning you...
forget you ever knew
the meaning of succulent
wild lust/love/life...
the ipomoea won't grow
in a void:
water, dirt, love,
bees & moths,
warm sunshine...
for such it pines...
You won't even look back
fondly (at all!)
at all that
steamy, poetry-inspiring
hormonal, mind-bending sex.
don't laugh, it ain't a hex I'm cooking
I'm warning you that
this - too - shall - pass.
One day'll be your last
& you won't know.
YOUR BODY WILL BETRAY YOU.
It's a ticking clock &
will stop & won't be
right even twice a day, ever again.
Put it on the calendar.
The end is near (in more ways than one)---
The ipomoea, after thousands of
fragrant flowers,
one night
fails to bloom (bleed)---no foreshadowing,
no premonitions,
it's just gone.
Gone...
~Marion Lawless
1 comment:
I love, love, love moonflowers. I planted some in front of my porch in Mississippi so they could climb to the ceiling and protect from the sun. Peggy and I SO enjoyed sitting on the swing in the evening admiring them. So far as I know, they don't grow here in Oregon, but seeing your photos inspires me to look for a place to plant some, and who knows but what they won't do well. After all, morning glories do okay, although they don't grow so prolifically as they did in Mississippi.
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