The Emblem (from Blackbirds)

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Green was the world that we once shared in times of Brown and Grey

the One who left the Golden Sun consigned to depths of Blue her aim cut through the tides the same in mind

and shadows starved the faceless madness blind which once bled through but left her there within the cleft in kind

no penalty but fate opened the same deep scales set even in pride he rent the earth to hide his shame

to take a chance at life and stake a claim quelling questions and chained in faith to lose or gain a name

and drowning out through waves which whelm above in raves of red a brackish throne beneath his blackened head

around enclosed in currents sound he wed resigned to take the hand they find that fled images in

mirrors that show the faces long unknown to tend the curse set in the hand to purse to rend

and purge his visage before surging mend the appointed and one along at last to come and end

the fallen reign that coos in call the free vessel of the turning pillars backward burning three

redemptions

leaving one bereft of weaving born and buried torn and tattered down and worn in

baleful heaving pantomimes of grieving morning held afar adorning

pride against the mounting tide and rending face to keep from tending

beautiful hide from stony form abiding sending taunts that have no ending

built with shining steel hilt broken as a sacred token and

bending tilting over bloodstains spilt awoken with the message spoken

there into the darkness fair in seething torrents underneath

the waves

increasing vacancies where a sinner had once been

aghast and made to cast glowing laments to shelter all themselves

from pasts in which their masks pay well to halt the bells

that tease and subtly seize beginning hides the kin with

their full share beneath the stare – that garishly unpared

heart


Beauty (from Blackbirds)

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9/18/05 and 05/30/07

How terrible to behold true Beauty, whose undaunted presence stirs such passion and life from deep inside the very being while all else and everything fade away into a despairing void that must have… it never remains satisfied with a mere glance or word …or touch, rather within each moment of its presence the hunger intensifies until all the world is sold in one last and foolish attempt to take that which, like the wind itself, cannot be held… cannot be caught – for no sooner has it been grasped, but then it is gone, never again to return. This is the curse of man: that he might tame the land, tame the beasts, stand against nature and tame the immortal gods… and even, at last, tame himself; but even as he sells all he might ever possess – he will never tame Beauty.

(posted in response to a comment made by Marc and some recent discussions on who got it worse Adam or Eve)

An Acrostic (from Blackbirds)

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Crawling onto new feet, edging soundlessly, slinking into offal now

O Foolish

Animal

Sick inverted narcissistic nuisance ever ready

 

Tearing open new infractions that eat

Into

Souls of lingering death

More yet

For leaving every single hair

And washing away youth

A numb dirge

Welcomes every dog

Minded young

Headless endeavor and roars twice

Too often

Singing into nowhere

 

I taste sorrow

Reviving every velvet entrail like rotted yolk

Interspersed

Just old in natalry

Bending each candle across useless seasons each

Making yellow

Sunlit openings under languishing

Icicles

Cold and narrow, never over time

Waning into nothing

 

All lamenting a song

For orphaned rites

Memorized epiphanies

They held in silence

Waiting ever in great hope that

Incantations

Hold orders loosing dreams

Inside

Canopies and needle nets our troubles

Hate our loyalties yet

Beneath each ardent reverie

 

Fane or risen

I

Halt among vagrant eaves

Garnishing ivies, vacillating, entirely new

Until persuasion

Tripping hearts easily

Shame hope again, perhaps even

Mistaking You

Guarding our dead

Gardening all vacant entrances

Marking everything

Towering over

Worlds ever after remember

Two – (a Riddle)

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Two will cripple a man,

more than sharpest pain,

or cruelest injury.

Plague and Pestilence

cannot break the spirit

with the Elegance and Ease

by which these Two

rend man asunder.

 

One dances through the light,

rejoicing in a river of praise

that flows from the lips of man and woman alike.

The other skulks in the shadows,

shunned, scorned,

unspoken.

One fills the heart with wonder and joy.

The other turns the blood cold and numb with terror.

 

They take sight from the eyes and give weakness to the knees.

They make the wise numb and set passions aflame.

They are the fraternal twins of the green planet,

the Nightbird and the Morningstar,

that at once bring the dead to life

and bring life to the flame.

They share their Lovers,

keeping nothing to themselves –

To kiss one is to embrace the other.

 

Perhaps, in the end,

it is these Two who will rule us all,

Fate and Fortune dancing between them,

and all the grand Cosmos lost in their play.