Grange Hall

Figure it out some day how

To stop wasting near

Misses notes never sent

Obliged and discontinued the

Grange hall cascades atop the rise of

A green hill verdant even in healing

Solstice ride in solitude solicitous

To the point of one another;

Some day figure it out some might say

Don’t bother

Who wastes time on a space as open flanked

By streams and their running as this;

Flanked by a town that died and emptied

Itself left itself barren and exposed; flanked by

A highway that falters on alert to various

Instigations in the back of the car divert

Therefore the near misses the wastreling

Purposeful flocks flew by whenever he

Walks he sees things no one else could

See he enrages their talks de la Falaise their

Simmering submerges their discontinuity

Whenever he dies and passes on a space

As open as the field where the grange hall

Lies cascades atop the rise of a

Green hill verdant he says less and less he

Dies and passes on a space where the

Grange hall lies.

Fortunate

Fortunate soul growing neither

In night shade nor quite enough to

Allow no rhyme

Nor

Reason on behalf of

His shame,

His holy hand in fear.

Understand, this isn’t unique

To certain departed wilderness

Lives to certain

Elements of heart ache

Nor

Disdain; this is fortunate enough

To emphasize exactly how

Much a very small deadly

Dream could go on rummaging

The troubles of a compassion

That didn’t know how

To end.

On a bridge throughout a sandy

Marsh across a lake of mortal

Sins he swung along a

Curse nobody disappoints

A garden of

Diminishment and

Heightened unconvincing

Lies, in height

And in splendor does the

Beauty of her heart

Dwell, fortunate enough to

Lash one more time his admiring

Vesper resolutions his interest

Accruing flight across the

Heavens.

Review of Antiphony on "Thoughts with Nowhere Else to Go"

"Antiphony is, in many ways, an awe-inspiring novel..."

http://alriske.blogspot.com/2011/12/antiphony.html?spref=fb

Sacredness and Light

Sacredness and light fill the oracles

Of every halfmoon rescuer’s

Respite,

It was true the dogs and foxes cried

And split the night beyond the northbound

Houses block upon block;

So only noble staring courage came

Without a distant pale

Delight.

The yester years deliver drowning

Words and wounds and half-made

Smiles we never will remember;

The forward tears rescind our

Burdens they

Could scarcely bear

By way of visions fear

December.

Especially she captivates the

Shaking she denies

The need to

Break the stifled glory might;

The precedent resurges only once

Or twice a night instead of

Hiding sinking sliding out of

Sight.

So go without, decide what you must

Sign and verify; forsythia will not bloom

For five more months or more; hedges

Will not harbor blossoms hallowed

Out their colors

Layered row upon row;

Leave them now, their branches empty

Arms aside abandoned lulling fall

Of winter tide and evening quiet long

And wide.