AMATORY QUARTET (from Twilight of the Fog, Book I ).
Love holds me captive again
And I tremble with bittersweet longing
The love that knots us hurts us…
One burnt star is enough for a child
What blood can hold all the dead stars?
He searched through the morning haze
The stout rocks breathe fear
He anointed his eyes in the sun
In shroud pictures of rain
That brood like a smile paralyzed.
What shall I sing you secret maiden
When you call flowering in a dream’s
Across the stream we are only two:
I will write my flesh on your bare body
That sinks the debris in the dumb-cry of flowers
In a dawn full of outcast grass…
A raindrop leaps on my tongue,
Bursts and swims between my lips
With soothing taste of 1st July.
Thirsts swell out of this tiny water
Thirsts roar in rushes of wraths…
Ah! my tongue, trough of toppled waters
Ah! My heart, imbibe and hoard
This noon’s liquid crossings
In lyric’s intercourse with intercourses-
Treeing in my tongue like a green river.
Let this green hour feed the air
With poetry that returns
Rains to the pregnant flower
Song to the inhuman hour.
SENTINEL POETRY #29, Online Magazine Monthly, April 2005, ISSN 1479-425X