30 December 2011

A call in the street in winter,
Unseasonably garbed
In the verge of spring's creatures'
Tastes of years.
Unforeseen not unexpected
Is some score winters gone.

21 December 2011

I do not represent
Or signify
One thing beyond this small space held;
No voice to sound
To who would hear,
No eye to sight
What cannot be seen.
From a piece of time
Does the least feather of a pigeon depend,
And my mortal soul,
That spires could touch
If I would them,
With every else will end
In the merest trough of matter,
A once of nothing.

13 December 2011

Tho the wind sat in my sail's shoulder
I would not sail being not
Of sails.
What wind that'd snap a canvas
Stir an instant fixed?

07 December 2011

With what animal fervor
Is lust's object chased
With sly emblems of love:
So the iron hot
National Geographic worm
Of lava taints
The vast press of coolness with its blood red
Transactional variation
Of something both shaped and shaping.