Wounded Heart Of Everyone
© Surazeus
2026 05 11

The saddest soul in the world eats the stone
soft as the wounded heart of everyone
so no one else feels anguish of despair.
Children swim in the river of weird words
to understand why happiness of light
gleams on surface of the burgeoning sea.

Fragments of the broken mirror gleam blue
in white dust of the driveway. Hungry trees
explain to the girl in the yellow dress
why wind gets trapped in words of holy books
no one ever reads. Pipes where water flows
slither under yards of fallen road signs.

Each time he finds another jeweled crown
abandoned in the field of rubber tires
behind the car garage, he asks the crow
for name of the faceless ghost in his heart.
People driving cars wear innocent masks
since rain sounds like clack of typewriter keys.

Ghosts are not real, yet they are memories
of people we would like to see again,
the girl in the yellow dress tells the boy
in tattered jeans. They walk along the fence
and pretend to play piano on wires
of awkward flirtation till they depart.

When her aunt calls her Catherine again
the girl in the yellow dress shakes her head.
I am the incarnation of Isolde,
but this time Tristan and I will not die
of broken-hearted sorrow, for we choose
the life we wish to live against cruel fate.

When the boy sees the crow on the mailbox
where he puts letters he can never write
to his mother, he feels strange sense of fear,
so he runs into night of broken lamps
and hides behind the car-repair garage
where his grandfather used to drink cold beer.

Late each afternoon, before school is out,
Tristan and Isolde meet at the garage
where they eat hotdogs and drink seven-up
while Light My Fire plays on the radio.
Because no airplanes in the clear blue sky
are dropping bombs, they both decide to kiss.

She plays violin while he plays the flute
as strangers making music in the night,
till psychic energy swells huge as clouds
that crack at sweet electric flash of love
so silver rain drenches the world in hope.
They never agree to marry or not.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus plays banjo in front of the garage while Tristan and Isolde make out in the back where the river remembers how to cleanse the Earth.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism