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This Prospero willing to be a happy exile
Winds up in a gravedigger’s pocket
Acting on a world that falls forward
toward some lewd end while
The son of Judas fills my coat with ghosts.
Tonight we will meet ourselves
And wait for you in tender bewilderment
At a place where the wives of giants gather
To celebrate the daylight.
There is justice in motion. We
Glorify the music of silence.
For Brownie
1993-2009
1 comment:
The anorexia miss is pushing my sanity,
Would you kiss-a her eyes?
To lay me down
Inside it's easy
To be born again
To be born again
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