Fabulations Made Plain

 [Poetry], Chaos and Stars  Comments Off on Fabulations Made Plain
Aug 122011
 
Ideas are for fakers, pikers, palookas.
I gave up their glimmer when they returned
An angel's whistle for my blooded tongue,
A something too pure and fey, too twinkling serene
For all the agony my gutturals must mean. 

For example. Night came, ushering his monkeys
In a ratty cloche of almost blacks.
This seemed something near to touch,
A fabled catastrophe brought almost to hand,
Eloquently close as a cripple's cane.

But stars, like damned ideas,
Shone clinquant in unrepentant heaven,
Far above the dingy circus scene.
Shone apart, and yet were a part, as an eye, or even...
You, who are here with me, know what I mean.