Where off-spring of malice lay ?
Oh silvery bicycle by hands unknown has
if not for wheels to stand
Then walk with feet this troubled land
And give my blood though time has doubled
Tripled even for my doctor's shovel
Jack and hammer does will distract
Now the third waxing rise impact
The form of general verses rhyme
In time, for meters' heat -still the heart does shine
Below her asphalt gravel stone membrane
Do Yeat's cones, alone regain…
The past triumphant once again
That which youthful pleasures slain
All troubles now but neatly folded
Though populace accrued…
Hop on / hop off and there emboldened
To bus down Seventh Avenue
Towards where a tower's freedom song does
Above there - foot, where a hospital once
Grant the vision as eyes do fail
Grant the voice that ever wails
In empty caverns of blue skied veils
Yet the conical steep prevails
This transition does avail
To highland melodies, my pale
This morning's rise did so provide
Before the shock of my missing ride
I love you
I love you
Caffeine within the organs waken
Tobacco wisps of air unshaken
While thoughts of those forsaken
By pacts and devils born by three
To Crowley's castled poverty
And Page's haunted symphony
And then by Anger's blasphemy, queer
Did all these thoughts collide
It must be backwards there, she said
Where words combined with daily bread
Of memory with future tidings Be -
reft of all analogy
Of course this means to shift the gear
Upon a dream that hovers dear
By sentence of thy prison here
Where shiny things adhere
To ink of darkened measure
Why ask of dawn what night did speak ?
Why ask of mid-day's tow-truck squeak ?
Why ask confusion's heir to peak
Through logic's faintly treasure ?
T-is for the song once left behind
In the recess of the mind
That candles yet remind
That youth flowered once though
Now remains to serve the plough
Of these the poet's tongue you creep
Following your rambles deep
As if there want participate
Of tidings crisp and elongate !
What shores of wafting sleep ?
It must be backwards there, said she
To follow crack, fade or yellow be
For sun shines bright on surface soil
But worms delight for buried toil
Below where bodies leave their souls
To be a rock
And not to roll
And one is all
When all are one
To you at last
The tune will come…
Cone 37 sees
Land's cape, and
Heaven's strange geometry
Which must I pray insist
How everything still turns to gold
And hedgerows bustle by spring's clean queen
Harbor pain to broken lock's regret
Heavenly that wonder makes, ooh…
It makes… me… w… what ?
That spokes to tire wheels forget
Not a thief's juicy gut to pierce ?
The flame of my appearance
Hail ! all ye spavined, gelded, hamstrung horses !
Ye shall surpass the planets in their courses.
How ? Not by speed, nor strength, nor power to stay,
But by the power that succeeds the Neigh !