why do they leave?

her eyes are drawn.away when. […]

why do they leave?

her eyes are drawn.away when.
they drift close.and shift as if
they never once beheld.your
own.and why?(a simple
for each will.leave.yes.gone
[why do they leave?]
did i at once conjure.a.
n.illusion?“those years before,
when we were young, or thought
we were, when eyes amet upon
the grass, and shared in we were
rumoured wrongs, a conundrum
too simple for one like”

“i know you not,” she says.
her.eyes ar;e drawn away; when
they drift too close on.a gentle
breese.wind.in my greyish hair:
“no, i know not you nyther,” i say,
“and i am not sure i ever did.”
afforded inside my venge.ful skull’s hole
that from ’leaks grey.oozing;brain.
down my lapel.

your eyes. why do they leave?
why do they always leave?
and were they ever there to begin?

The Fragile Shade

If I were to treat with such a myth […]

The Fragile Shade

If I were to treat with such a myth
as that which drives your soul, what
would I find?
Only I see that tenderness, only I
see the way you breathe.
(A lie.)
But an honest one.

If I were to shelter the tragic shade
within my corset’s bounds, what
would I feel?
Yes, it is only I that gives life
to such a fragile shadow of man.
Yet not sincere.

Echo far, my lonely little life:
Echo far, my sweetest;
Echo far, my truest care—
And go beyond what I could
achieve on my hollow own.

Belief between us is shared,
but it is as if my prayers are not heard.

Three Love Songs, Part II: Summer, Severance, Sighs

Three more poems treating upon the idea of romance.

Three Love Songs, Part II:
Summer, Severance, Sighs

Song of Summer

Lost lover—
freed secrets from beyond the ochre mist,
   our tryst—
sleeping in yron dusk, lovely buttons,
slim neckline, adored.
A canto to your eye, an hour never bored;
to pass the while with golden company,
   many seconds pass in your light.

Gained shadow—
loose marbles of Geryon-size,
   my prize—
quiet now, dear love; your mouth
betrays our pact, condemned.
A verse for the oath from which this stemmed;
and concealed, stored in
   marble box I keep ’neath my ruins.

Guided path—
I think of summer days together on the grass,
   where I sighed amidst your form
and introduced you to a world
   beyond the world.



Song of Severance


            She grew upon a bough of jade,
            Trickling roses grasped o’er slade beyond;
And through the glens, her bright frond glowed,
Lighting up this darkn’ing land of slowed respite.
            A silver frost encroached with bite unseen
            To pluck her from the life she had been born:
      But tho night claws with toxic tooth, morn protects,
      And throws its silent voice and detects harm;
Base shadow is betrayed and thrown back to calm peace,
Whilst pure kindness in mortal form is given keys eternal.

            I found her upon the flowered earth,
            Shed from the boughs of her birth-tree;
And as she sat, her hands masked what she would see before
The elements themselves conspired to make sore wounds.
            A sheen of ice separated the moon’s light
            From her severed form, as it shone bright gem;
      I lifted her faerie form, and we danced, her dress’s hem lifted
      To reveal earthen legs of sap, gifted upon
This single damzell with which to waltz under yon boughs
From which she was shed; we held ’neath the lune’s arouse, yfere.

            We footed gaily upon the sable sea,
            Ensconced within our dreams, she finer
Than I could have ever been; altho I ween’d a minor feare,
That time is ever fickle, this severance drew not near afore
            Our plaintive nostalgia for what could draw below;
            Instead our lips amet, betraying solitude and thro’ terror,
      Hidden yet by the crystal waves lapping our ankles, rarer tho
      It be — this love of severance, a man and nymph so bound
By existence’s love and irony: that yet our dance was sound, clear,
We wept foresight: for we knew that passion’s end was rising ever near.



Song of Sighs

Make a sign with me, good love;
I’d chance a kiss for you,
If the weather allowed.

A slight patter through
The gambrel-roofed avenues
Where we hide.

A penumbral peck
Is worth the fear of being found,
You in that silken dress.

It fits you well, spiderweb
Wrapped around your waist:
Caught, just like I.

Don’t close your eyes, O girl;
Night will soon close
As rain falls on our shoes.

We shall return apart; so it must be,
Our movements sheltered
By o’erhanging lights.

Your soft breath upon my lips:
A small sigh exudes
Your eversweet scent and taste.


Three Love Songs: Starling, Spirit, Sincerity

There is a starling I hold close to my heart […]

Three Love Songs:
Starling, Spirit, Sincerity

Song of the Starling


There is a starling I hold close to my heart
   Winged darling of curious eye
Surprised in the brush, it doth depart
   I know I shall not see it again;
It was my friend.

Tender feathered starling, large as light
   Dainty and comely in the sky bright blue
And in the night it sings its song
   Upon the slender bows of the quince bush;
Then darts like arrow into downy throng.

O, voice so sweet, like lilting hymn
   Sings Christian tales of lovers’ consummation
I wish to hold its fragile limb—
   Inspect those eyes of delicate sharpness,
      And reveal scene of woed lovers’ separation.

There is a starling I hold close to my heart
   Winged darling of curious eye
Surprised in the brush, it doth depart
   I know I shall not see it again;
It was my friend.



Song of the Spirit


Beauty: pure be thy name,
     Distilled elegance.
Litanic lamentations of refined essence,
To misplace a psalm into palms unworthy.

Foolish: Then,
     Alchemical rites of dusky biology,
Alembic apparatus to temper daemon’s sharp spirit-tooth,
   Archaic methods to soothe out romantic merit’s sooth.

Hands of prayer conjoined and closely tented;
     No phrases coined or lent to describe puerile tint and blush,
But those of reams of script enwrote in history’s brush.

The saint and soul exist entwined as contradicting tenants;
     They share the world, and see God’s lot of actions crying penance:

When for all we yearn is to spend our hours enriched by her subtle presence.



Song of Sincerity


A smile’s a gift of perfect ease with she,
An exchange of hands ’neath trees, ’neath rain;
I wince rue passions as she shifts her knee,
Project where her elfin form has lain.
The instances that comprise woodland tryst
Speak to golden wisps of hair from fey nymph,
The instances of seelie words I list
Flow o’er me as pure unyielding lymph.
My arthritic hand lends a laurel crown—
Such alms I wrought in care to thank her so
For what I wear atop sewn sylvan gown.
I steel the fears of romance, I forego:
      All other love that makes good sense to chase;
      Commit to one struck with tender fay’s grace.