Abandon me thin, sickly, darken stealth;
Poverty then my only wealth;
Weakened, lessened, sign hereafter,
Turned my dearth into their laughter;
Soften, soften, softly so,
What men dismiss I do not know.
My home is a place of pain and of pride,
May my history shock and maybe surprise;
In memories made I cannot reside,
Over life’s table we drown and reprise.
We lost, and in forfeit we laughed and we cried;
We won, and in gaining we argued and vied;
Endless injustice, only Eirôn survived –
Letting go of our wealth, we suddenly died.
I am within a constantly spinning Out of body experience; It's true that Suzie made me do it. Give me a cello and a double bass And I ascend the braced confines Of a marshy soul so sublime You could flush for a thousand years With all your torch-bearing trodden might And a dynamic jubilation of flutes And yet never find a mallow-pheasant, And yet never see its sparkled flight.
My love does not sustain me -
Autumnal rain, alerts anew
For loved-ones long since missing,
Cordon over whole hearts blue.
Nor now hope sustain me -
Basalt-livered, they stood
Our sodden searchers down,
Blood-deep in myth and rue.
My mizzle-soul in mistle,
We cheered a plum rakija!
Secrets in a windy keep,
The citadel is incomplete
And so we dance mazurka.
From the very ends of my fingertips, My fingerprints as old as rings in the oaks Of the seven southern counties lost, Or the sincere lines Not just merely-read By a calcified Babylonian Chiromancer, but upheld As something splendid, As delicate as dreams in a turning moth, I will channel and convey The ferocious glass-through burning Compelling a demiurgic resolution To my resistible demise, With dazzling apogees we shall rise From this derelict and too-long, Much too-long debasing nadir Scrubbed clear of demagoguery, And we shall thrive, for love, For all that is still worth celebrating, Then like Emily, and Edward, And all the ancient poets, Just as suddenly disappear.
To deny a drought, or climate end,
Ask how they kept their courses green,
Golfers, jockeys and those ascending
Unseen dukeries and queens
En route to monasteries,
Palaces and temples.
A river is not for mending.
I tried turning my mind upside down
And squeezing from this melancholic brain
Just like towels in a turbid
Or a memory of lemons
From a dry, unholy plain;
Yet the unfurnished words in my urn
Became vapour, became sky
And therefore irreverant.
Dropped lapis lazuli
Into that cracked amphora
Not long after I died.
My quest remains
That did not exist.
Snows on frozen lake,
Aggregate in silicate,
Glittering and slight.
To hope you’d be back soon
Moss upon magnesium brew,
Craters on a moon alight;
Would I rejoin the living
I’d wait just one more night.
My one and only sovereignty
Is undeniable sadness.
In these remote soliloquies
I would seek forgiveness
For something other than being alone.
There is a pleading stone in my throat,
Neither gemstone nor the coke
Smoked from under a distant slope,
I own my descendency, my business
Being a militant trope
Ossified into a monopyrenous
A flag flutters briefly over my eyes,
And in that dimming whittled flute
Sounds of my endless demise.