Before the Advent

Michael Peach

Before the advent
Of soulful Anima,
That led at last to Milk Wood
And glimpses, at least,
Of wholeness and true love,
Dylan’s adopted muse
Was demonic Demiurge:
No humble poet-prophet he,
Awaiting impregnation
By the Holy Ghost,
But a thrusting, spouting,
Lucifer incarnate,
Who bodied forth
His hubristic, fragmented
In showers of sharp, dark, spinning,
Spellbinding verbal shards –
Words, he believed,
For word’s sake –
Which almost shattered his mind,
Extinguished his heart,
And eclipsed and obscured
The simple light
Of his indivisible,
God-created Soul.


27 July 2011

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