Saturday, January 17, 2009

Lost Shore

Telemachus 9

The impatient snout of anxiety
(Worse than nothing wrong)
Round and frank works
The giddy wind
against the somber cape.

Evening laughter
Looking softly toward
The gilded, sacred ox
Oh Helen! You are chased chaste
Here your fair noise betrays you
Here your broken ribs murmur
Slightly in this breeze.

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