Orange que te quiero verde, that's Poeticah

The Visual Poetry of Poeticah explores the boundaries between poetry, languages, and traditional with computer visual art.

This is a poem from my chapbook Axtlanadu.

<<Axtlanadu>> The Quest Through Hamlet Junior's Life The end or not the end - that is the quest. Perhaps we're in a timeless play that arrives And goes then comes and leaves then reappears. From an abyss, we enter a peaceful floating world Nourished in velvety warmth not bound by words. Soon we're pushed through a tender tunnel, And shortly emerge to battle the awesome light. From laughter to ashes, chaos to sunlight we cycle. From deed to act we spiral up greater roles. No time to dread infinite voids behind us Or fear fleeting gaps between our acts. What about the gulf beyond our end? Instinct shows there's zero on the other side. Instincts are as true as sky from earth. The wide black yonder carries lamps which slowly Whirl around our static giant pancake. What lies beyond our end? Why does it matter? For sinners, the end is measureless tragedy. Faults on this brief side of their final dawn Should crush their chance to make another smile. For the good, the end is a perfect endless play. The flawless script has just and lovely actors Without a field to work, improve, or risk. For the average, the end is a boundless plain story. They never did much good or bad to boast of. Maybe there's an endless drama where we Can climb toward distant jewels on untold steps of Danger, pain, joy, new frontiers. Who craves a maze of stairs which never stop That soak in unbound peril, anguish, labor? Nothing else will do. Lets have this end. The end: a constant state with no escape. <<Axtlanadu>>