30 January 2016

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.




19 January 2016


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?

16 January 2016




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.

01 January 2016


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.