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462
I am a thief of peril
A forger of lords
a reckless jack among the grey stones
removed from custody
detained with a thousand anarchists
all holding their umbrellas
upside down.
who'll be the new iscariot?
the blooded apron of judas?
Who'll find me when I'm gone?
a mosaic of life preservers
all nailed just beyond reach
and we are up to our necks in dynamite
knuckled under in the prison of pleasure
how easily we descend into joy!
463
this bell of mine is artless
it is a perfect stranger
it has no eye
no machinery
it is a bomb
about to explode in blushes
it does not speak, certainly not of
the church of the infernal
it is a liar and a dog
all feet and thumbs
it is half-eaten
bloodshot and ear-less
I left it hanging, lost
somewhere in my heart.
1 comment:
the folks from 1 and 2 need to meet.
composition number two is very satisfying; nicely hoarded diagonals.
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