Friday, October 14, 2011

She Thrones to the Countenance

Farewell forever she thrones to the countenance
Of outcomes mine with whiles and
Wherewithals she shakes the river
Bridge asunder;
Yearn forever blank and empty free from almost counted
The bluster best forgotten
Whelps her heavy crying
Paying then for jumps and hindrance left beside the crumbling gravel of the
Give a picture portal through the silence and
Her recognizing several ways to rake
The lock outside the door.

In vestments of skin and arabesque of sweat for
Trying infant’s rage the secret castle lots
Embodied through her final torrid
Trade in time and willful ways the
Tendency to mete her punishments to no other won’t let go;
After any whim and gesture strays beyond the
Crowned deliverance of her carpenter’s
Control forever goes her freedom thrones
To windows never shuttered never

She frays the droning midnight bell she
Smiles beyond the towers dust begotten
Every slim eternal necklace brims beyond the sympathy
Engenders breaks and skimmed
Needless to say whoever staked the
Claim removed the clouds and fevers reeked the habits and imagined
            alleys back behind the garden sold;
Never mind another distant breathing feral ghost
Inside another clearance kept the crawling painted wrinkles
daft beside his hand;
And any chance to somewhere crash the cymbals left the
Happenstance in many ways she couldn’t
Seek to perch around her house her waking pillow nights
Against her spoiling glove and severed thrones.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

“I love those who yearn for the impossible.” –Johann Wolfgang von Goethe