September 29, 2015

Only I don’t know
How to go—
Hail, negation of pursuit!
(Somewhat more calamitous your silence is to me.)

September 15, 2015

The First Altar

Everything about me heals more slowly—
Rough are my walls of clay
To my own labored swipe of palm;
Their warmth is hesitant breath,
Their rifts, hard shadows’ latch.
Oh pay, pay,
So on my drowsy bones lay
What sensation of renewal may size and buy!
And when I am like an elemental wrought
To span the distance of his realm,
How green an earth would I myself guard,
How soft the closure of its lapis dome.
Home  |  About