Oh, nothing else would wring my heart so deadly-hard
as the deficiency of outer force to squeeze it.
When love is stripped for searching and restrained to visit,
a neap tide of emotions sways from “bark” to “bard”.

I’m leaving all conclusions scribbled down and smeared.
The grin is blooming as the lips are parting lento.
It’s late for sacraments and far from Sacramento,
the labored breathing of the past won’t cost a tear.

My teacup and stir-crazy storms are brimming with
a lisping wind, which leafs through oldies, skips a drabness.
Reciting barbed intones and tousling flicks of madness,
I linger at the threshold... rattling… final kiss.

And I unfurl impalpably the path outside
of me. The body’s flayed; the soul’s uncurled and subtle.
It’s so impetuous to absolve and gain the title
of the sequestered, gleaned by desolation knight

who with the wordy-wrought crescendo sheds the shades,
looks after light impetuously throbbed with ventures.
His species are enlisted in cohorts – “endangered”,
his immortality is welcomed in the arms of Hades.

22 January 2009