Jan 302015
 
The soul's weary weather--all heavenslight after 
The plumed owls' hoo, after starry cries stoppered above 
The black trees' stirless shadow
Rise spendthrift from clear silences of night, 
Or come roaring down light-crafted clouds
To drown 
My nickering wicked ways and proud.

Hooded and hooved, my mazy footsteps arrow-trod,
I walk awake yawning dawn's cadmium floods
And break today's milky veils--
I tear all my spider's swagged bag of guilts
Dragged from nightmare silts and dreaming dread
To scrawl 
This crippled, ink-black shred.

I've spent my whole of love on a half ragtag child's 
Green and runaway, grave-going hand I held
Through the roaring tread 
Of the wild weather.  Blown down breakneck winter's steps
In dead trumpet air, my forgotten weathers 
Come round together
And flood my flashing morning-mourning eyes.

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