Monday, May 16, 2011

These Fortunate Suns Made larger But Less Whole


the young are rising
talking in the open air
they suspend the hours waltzing
to the time of the sun
weaving curves of laughing
with silent hands waving
in seas of human hair
lightly skipping into amber
lifting mornings like fading dancers
freely, freely changing mirrors
but only barely touching glimpses
of coming twilight


Changing darkness receding hands
virgins droop from false grey shadows
fluttering under dull grey veils
give me your nighttime arches
deliver me from your weary bells
make your pattern my simple time
turn me onward toward the morning
leave me and I will steal
all your hours your arms now hold
and replace them with
my twisted fingers


I watched their father's factories fall
scattering their light
into the mouth of the sky
the drifting spotter's flares now making
momentary noonday over
their fields of ordinary unhappiness
Victory is declared at once
then doubled in fancy
their confessor becomes exhausted
and leaves their sins alone
to echo in his hollow booth
tottering from the weight of all their fear
while the lame and blind dance
in the shadow boats
making for some imaginary horizon.


We, the fixed-eyed people
on their highest horses
fall aside flying skyward
and fade
in the distance
after all that, we find ourselves really afoot
walking through a middle-world of
harsher signs and secrets
end you
world without end

1 comment:

Richard Ewing said...

These are all beautiful, I like number 2 the most --There's a fascination with the vagueness of the pose of the guy with the shoes that keeps me glued.
...and the shoes are a joy as well.