That Is No Country For Old Men*

Eumaeus 643

I pawned my eyes

to come to this favored opening

a wall so ill, so high with neither corner nor

darkness, where echo drowns in the dark sand

I lugged luck from harm across these bright waters

and made myself now elderly in this impatience

secondhand voices answer

from within a watering brain

it was a book of holes which described me

the former moments pass away

avoiding found wakefulness

and picked from ire

to keep all this intensity

from wanting your words.

Eumaeus 644

according to the floor, the

stones never fail

they outstay honesty and being.

their blood is on the night air -they get their

companions from certainty

and walk sinewless among

our mistakes

we will grasp the differences in failure

and look for the price of welcome

we will put down our arms and

disown winter

because the only thing left

is the end of all flesh

and the debt due.

Eumaeus 645

Madam Time withholding

character in a hat

death in mind and voices through doors

amateur music making all this desire

seem sacred

an opinion of worship

surely god is knowledge

ranting, dreaming, virtuous.

All these moody peasants

studying gems

for clues to perfection

air made of stone

its purpose eviction

these tenants of privilege.

*W.B. Yeats- "Sailing To Byzantium."

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi

Eumaeus 640

Heart, will you still be possible

when yesterday is suddenly missed?

will you always astound somehow, speak

and falling like some profligate star

like years of duty, so wedded to a piece of affection?

Heart, so elder and such the

travelling eye leading you fondly through

the weeks and years you

speak of trains in the night

of age and life

and see the best lies

in all your neglected arguments

Eumaeus 641

The suffering of common animals

is often misunderstood

the dog remembers the spoil as well

as the mistake

he has not years but only this neglected moment

only conclusion and causes

his faith is often sorely strained

and cruelty is an incurable event

approaching a mistake

he risks conclusion in order

to be cured of reason

his idea of fate

is an idea of water,

it will not hold him from departure.

Eumaeus 642

eventually, God became a cynic

its pessimism beckoned

accompanied by all those beautiful

chambers of fate

it was left shaking in the vicinity of home

standing near a shanty in Blarney

with a revolver in its overcoat

feeling the pleasure of it in its hands

thinking a plan of blood

sailing on a sea of grass

failed calculations in its frozen marrow

becalmed in these silent years

The Well Is Full of Pennies*

Eumaeus 635

A ladder against my night window

a peculiar gospel of forgetting

a dreaming stairwell in an electric bedroom

the simple fashion of assassination

moves me to claim safety in the storms of bliss

and carve fame from doubtful fire

and loveless smiles

to witness the wild and windblown shore

to hear the eternal itchy sirens

to finally fall victim to their expectation

and gain admittance to the waves no more.

636

Diego's king

that man of Spain

surprised by teeth

made by decency

wouldn't be so passionate

had he answered his own reflection

where he bears the glowing of abandon

of pianos and executions

and rumors of vengeance without dreaming

his Velazquez daughters

rather muddled in his pockets

watched over by that frumpy idiot

the tiny lady eyeless,

victim of gravity.

*Tom Waits- The Fall Of Troy

Jesus Blood Never Failed Me Yet*

Eumaeus 632

A little bitching and the plague is upon us

we fools we beat the length of our absence with a jaw

and pull a coup from the mouths of our poor

these nests of nettles and copper

they settle us as lent lords  even though we

often place our feet between our teeth

 but, nevermind, the bodies reasons will  cleverly manage

to deliver us to joy

633

who but a friend may take shelter

in rooms of the dead?

who buys our memories

and resells them at a profit?

who but man with eventual aliases

will be hurt in the market of oblivion?

who will lead us out of redemption?

634

O common bitch

you fucked up and left a bone

had you come back you'd 've

found at least one

in matters of faintest laughter

we are worse for our suspicions

we are commonplace drifting criminals

without suspicion

and lie to each other affectionately

on a boat named no direction.

* Gavin Bryars

Jesus Blood Never Failed Me Yet