Wednesday, July 15, 2015

of love and dark ways in fragment and phrase

this the cold air of a summer
in which of anyway there was no certainty
even afterwards long after
when he held his head in death
cradling those thoughts
as if they had happened then
as if that had been some point

of gnosis but no it cannot he will think back there
into the garden whose bench was now
or then a gap or space or absence

no he would think in those last times no

it could not be for imagine the unimaginable faery
transport of such a thing and who anyway
could sit upon it there in the air such
an air of hiatus or hubris or harking

anyway to the meek in rows for the showers
of midsummer with a dug-up of poppies
that were anyway fell anyway of light
and anyway of war and rivers undug and
now yes and yes and yes

to what motor or engine or brain
does one prostrate is all after and no
before so yes and come hither
for one has words painted there upon

the sky, look
for an instant
they hold

and all the world shudders
pricked as an anxious pet
but perceiving nothing yet
like so many whirled Buddhas

lapses or relapses or collapses

in all such ways: your absence

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