The second poem inspired, partly, by Un coeur en hiver.
tears these days
it's always tears these days
tears
hiding
waiting
for the opportune moment
for the dam to crack
the brittle and the damp
to meet in a discreet
sad ecstasy of soft decay
break down
and let them flow
and oh! good lad
what fancies have you clad
in weeds of madness weeds of sad
departure and arrival at a stranger port
than ever your imaginings could this distort
into, and oh!
oh how fragile
and horrible are
those lies where no abundance
but only pity lies
in weight
a ragged feather of plenty
and rough black gold of heaviness
dragging the bloody culprit
to the bottom
through countless mouthfuls
of mud
No comments:
Post a Comment