Lunam, Et Stellas

I am as        the
moon hiding to
     and fro amidst
the       stampede
of stark-black clouds
        (or is it the sky?)

       You are my stars,
collectively,
as if you    cannot
swing too              far
               from my       orb.

When people look
at       us       they'll
            see that our
lights are

one.

Sol Die

Had me believe it was a Sunday,
      she moved with such a reverence.
      It somewhat leads me from a fray.
      How I clung to her day by day:

She's happy but she's crying, how absurd;
      the eagles bring her her supper.
      How absurd. She likes but dislikes love,
      but loves in return. How absurd.

The pleasure from her whispers, I would gladly die lives for;
      she does not boast a tear when her sorrow comes with fear.
      Like sunsets in Paris, and her lovers, too,
      nothing does compare to you.

Lapsus

Jump and fall
and fall    again--

Feet slightly apart;
    picking up
pieces from broken
         hearts.

You reach out
as if    you
   hadn't grown at all,

as if you'd ever
   been so small.



And fall again.


Like fallen men,
shot down in
the horrid    scenery:



the coast of Normandy   
    sodden with the blood
of men whose        hands
shall write of home
no more. 


And jump,          as if
    that heals the itch
this world has
longed    to scratch.

50th Post: Caduam Leonis

Battered, torn
     like the garments
of Egyptian peasants.
How does one man
be thus       reborn?

With the lion's
tail I write my    lines
I paint my sceneries;
        vexation brings
them from my hands.

And when the piercing
thunders roll,    as
     Grecian men astute
and strong.         Make
noises you own not.

No spit of roses, daffodils,
              or even dew-don 
grass will           rise on
your melancholy,
solitary              grave.