Saturday, June 25, 2016

Lisbon

In her eyes
      narrow streets open
       
     From her mouth
            sultry air blows

        over Estremadura

    Dark Amphioness...
           Lisbon remembers
   
  Your beauty,
      lifted by song,
        stands

       The Tejo
  runs through my
         hands

                         
                         

   

Thursday, June 23, 2016

Revelation


"Just as technology is always revealing nature from a new perspective, so also, as it impinges on human beings, it constantly makes for variations in their most primordial passions, fears, and images of longing."  Benjamin, The Arcades Project, K.

Saturday, June 18, 2016

Word



      What is told
         another takes,

Spirited away
   by reckoned steps.


Anoint tongues
in endless night

  and teach
   Godless
    rhetoric.

Hume Id

 

                         I


It matters not the Sun rose
  above measured breath.

Will morrow bring the same?

Will her body leave its
    winsome press?

This bed a familiar shell,
      a tender vale,
    whists my name


              II


What foam did she rise from,
           Poseidon?

  Suppose gold locks
obscured Phoebus' eyes
     as she shored...

   The Gods' smiles set
     'neath her pillow,

Lost in futile approximation


            III


Thro' intermine night,
   still hours centuries,
     stroking hair

 Overlooking dream
        deceive
   betwixt world
      and world

Else




Heavy fog swathes the pallid cone of Helicon.
 No longer touched
   by paternal light,
 Maidens scatter
    to lower lying vales.


A thread was lost.
  The boughs hush
     their plaintive hymns.


Mother's arms awkwardly crown this wearisome head.
No longer touched
   by maternal light,
my face descends
     to her lenient breast.


A thread was found.
   The cloth stills
     my plaintive sobs.



Thursday, June 02, 2016

Counterpane

Paula draws the counterpane gently
and settles in sleep's misty close.

Lazily I drift to the largo of her inspiration.

At the desk lies a book
unevenly parted by
my left hand,
I read the legend:

           "Absolute Freedom and Terror"

                     A nimbus parts the son's hair.
                     His head settles a copse's lassitude.
                     Mother is the soft moss he rests upon.
                     The counterpane, a softer lid, covers eyes.
                     A shadow show murmurs 'til Father stirs.


Carmen

Song shines in those eyes.

Claw them out,
Heave them up
skies.

Night, like heavy fragrance,
sated with love's scent

Strangles the sweet breath
       of paradise in
          melody.