Hibernian thought
thawing overbrimming
ice dams
emerging from
limbo fog as
swans from
the mind's magician hat
effervescing from
harbored springs
into mist
The dog shaded
the rose silver
of fog at dawn
hounds the swans
Lavender's palindrome
scent and hue
both bouquets of
the blue of vain blood
viand, veined
My thoughts mandelbrot
noveling over
In the rain
I watch the swollen river
rise
through my tears
The Me
wants the We
and bends the limbs
of conception
open to the
missed perceptions
that keep us two hearted
and that twain pain
must merge
and move toward
unpartitioned love
where unpartitioned and un
equals not a negative two
not an imaginary number
but the nonplussed duo
a congruent untwo
of equals
I am no longer
afraid of age
and need no aid
to face the wrinkles in time
only the wish to slip unremarked
under the bridge
of last sighs
a silent disembodied escape
from dignity's inlaid
wooden barque
a slight acknowlegding nod
from the point of no return
the only appearance of change
All the while watching the new
Atlantes and Caryatids
carrying their catafalques
bent under the
unbearable burden
of awareness lost
unable to find
an earthly purchase here
and at what cost
at last to rest and
reprise their
former paradise
The votress and her pantaloon
giggle at the indignant gigolo's
eunique falsetto
whose swan's song
of groaning false notes
issues from
the empty grotto
where that earthy fellow
Punchinello grabs
the gargoyles groin
with the biblical hail
of gideon's instrument
fashioned from swan's bones
trumpeting the grail
Outriding
in the robot derby
through a mist
of media midges and gadflies
under the bright paparazzi confetti
the jocular jockies
with mock suprise
race to parade rest
while I practice
sleight handing
idiom to image
If I possessed Will's power
to play with words
I would aspire
toward an ever higher
apogee of human empathy
encompassing
with passion
every emotion
until each voice
was understood
to speak for common good
Autumn's axe
breaks butterflies back
frost cataracts
frog's ponds
frissee, frisson
Green man of
the greenwood
straw man of withy wood
both bois blanc from
Jack Frost, cum
spring-heeled, cum
Knapes come Learing
all mumming to the Annual parade
seers allseeing what the jackdaw secrets away
The old guiser beribboned rides
his norse hobby horse, Old Tup,
up the Maypole
where Jack's in the box on top
popping cherry red maidensheads
to placate the horn mad equine ox
Scapegoats cuckold old menhirs
morris dancing on dolmen
chancing the son's return
chanting "blood for the stone"
tying the sword knot
round the nape of the knaves neck
wedding by beheading
virgins to bridesheads
separating hearts
from sanguine valentines
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