2071 redux

2071 redux
Something you no longer have
Long orphan:
That sign of love's first interpretation
That braided your mind and body.
In one day was your father dead
And she now and you are
Where she was then.

2667

2666

2665

2664

2663

2662

2661

2661
What is time's armature
That my body bends it?
That its touchless solidity
Heats my brow?
That my incontingent name unmoor,
And a moment become what I am?

2660

2659

2658

2657

2657
In the cruciate pavilion,
As golden paths
Are the silent corridors,
To silence commanded;
The walls of silk are blood red.

In the garden of the tower
Behind the wisteria screen,
Is ornate modesty made counterpoint
To an unveiled woman's power.
Of dark red are the blooms of wisteria.

In the pavilion of the master
Is the weight of fond magnificence
A shining,
And bright unshifting burden;
His tears were ever and are still, of red.

2656

2655

2654

2653

2652

2651

2650

2650
Will grow old in minor iniquity
Walking in the sun
Of my public grace,
An engraved preface
To some inner face.
Unsuited to life,
Counting days by cigarettes,
And an hour by the silence
Of fictitious fears.
The distance twixt the measure
And the emotion is the rub:
No undiscovered country,
But a sun is never there,
And I'll be never here.