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Poems By Poet Patti Masterman  10/21/2014 5:19:14 AM
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We practice it in our sleep

We practice it in our sleep,
That final flight into the ether-
The one from which we will never come back.

We're riding high, on the cresting wave of moonlight
Sceaming past fires of flaming suns
Far into the cauldron of multicolored night.

The slip-knot of time slows down
Long enough to drag our cocooned soul
Into the nearest sphincter of a wormhole.

Who could have guessed
That darkness would be the bone-marrow
Of so many subtle and exotic hues.

Racing through veils of blown out stars,
We pierce the raving annihilation of space
Weaving to and fro, through the comet trails.

Our voices still many light years behind us,
Stretching out, in the neural photonics of joy-
Only the echoes return, by morning.
Patti Masterman



We remember our days

We remember our days
Through a kind of haze,
Of what fascinations ruled them.

We grew up, unknowing
What the portents were showing,
And what past to the future would send.

Now we travel in time,
To the hours left behind;
We know right where we are going.

Though we're sad we can't stay,
For a year or a day,
Just to watch which seeds, we were sowing.
Patti Masterman



we string up our words of pearl

we string up our words of pearl
dangle them, on finest fishing line:
butterflies, and large birds of prey
both are born from the same effort;
a monster, or a holy man
enter in through the same channel
and even though love and hate wrestle
every wee-hour of the dawn
to see which will reign that day,
we are never fearful of the weapon
we hold in our own hand
but only of what they might hold, in theirs.
Patti Masterman



We swam through the miles

We swam through the miles of back-lit stars
Hanging like pale gemstones above black velvet,
The inlet dropping warm saliva from the seas
Upon our valiantly upturned faces.

You passed through all my slow wheeling dreams,
A spent wave of once-occult feelings,
Though a moon still comes now and then
To rebuke me with its petulant gaze.

All that was new and carefully folded;
Never opened, in our love blind patience
Stirs now, like a wounded bird in shadow;
Because we never tested our wings.

The ocean spread itself bravely, shore to shore
But we remained earthbound;
Afraid we could not withstand two weathers;
Afraid we would lose sight of future landings.

The stars overhead signed their names off in frost,
But our compass was already submerged;
As East and West were plundered like twin wrecks,
We sailed off the sides of the map, into our own icy Sargasso.
Patti Masterman
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Poems By Poet Patti Masterman