Kelly Sinclair's Poetry

Vital

				(May/97)

Clenched between your teeth
the words never spoken
in rage. 

Resisted daily as though
a moral abomination,
sensual release.

It could be yours, all of it,
this brilliant sphere,
if it could be spouted out
in daily spooned increments.
Absorbed through your skin
like the contents of a dermal patch,
free of contamination.
But it comes at you
in relentless pursuit,
a snug second skin
that never peels away
from your steely carapace.

Motes dance in the sunlight,
an incandescent shaft
never clean of reality.

Reckless wind disorders
branches, slipping through
your door, unasked.





Art as Life	
			(May/97)


I want to tell you about life
as it is lived in the moment
engaged thrust and parry,
pointillist markings up close
the space between, 
the space where you breathe
.consciousness fleeting,
giant step backward,
the canvas smears into Monet.
reality as interpretation
the moment you define
then abandon as
unsustainable

Life is Edward Hopper,
see light suffuse every pore,
breathe in the cape, the city streets,
close enough to real, but
impossible to touch.
A row of telephone poles
stretches into oblivion,
blue sky devoid of symbolic clouds.
Beauty is there, dig for it.




Green Miracles
                            (10/96)


The oblivion of carpeted rises,
lodged within temporal capacity.
So long a wait.

Milagros verdes
Soil and water conspire to create
this common paradise,
embraced only through dislocation.

Labor results in respite,
salvation on Sundays.
Into the green.






This poetry is the property of Kelly Sinclair and may not
be used without her consent

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