Cherry

Posted: June 24, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

getaBong
The fire that lights the cone sets the world aglow
And fire inside will warp the bottomless psyche.
The acrid smoke of tobacco, the sweet smoke of Mary Jane,
A cocktail of cannabinoids, opening up new cartographies of consciousness.
Smoke fills the bottle and rises to the lungs,
Which flinch and shake in a paroxysm of coughing.
A weird oxygen-deprived lightness in the head,
Then the descent of a warm blanket of stonedness:
Over the brain and underneath the soul,
Over the heart and underneath the mind,
A fuzzy feeling, warm and comforted,
Suppressing thought of mediocre things,
And opening the head to poesy,
By squaring the soul’s circle round the grave.

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