The Drowned Head

 [Poetry], Burning Byzantium  Comments Off on The Drowned Head
Aug 272011

The gangling legs are absent; nothing whitens
The deep blue surface curling there
And never breaking. A stiffening face
Turned mask-like and muscle-stricken frightens
White birds that pern in whiter air.
Riotous cries cannot give its tossing countenance a place;
Blotched reds that crust the desert water
Until all color cakes and lies motionless, falters.

What but attitude of all man in a rage
Can reverse a death's complacency and kick
Up foam? Agony of living lonely as a bird
Between sun and moon, moving like a spade,
Empties the ragged features, the dull wickless eyes
That looked on nothing common, commonly interred. A bird-
Like woman lingers on the quay's interrupted sounds
To witness drowning sailors, her head in beauty bound.

In my heart, a false fable starts

 [Poetry], The Departed Friend  Comments Off on In my heart, a false fable starts
Aug 212011
In my heart, a false fable starts
	 That 'tween two friends, so fair, so fast,
	 No rill of envy could ever pass,
No trickle winter could make crack.

Our summer was a million days
	 That on two shared pulses shone;
	 What was thought in the heart of one
The other's tongue found fit to praise.

Autumn's harvests had us chasing feasts
	 In distant dales neither knew;
	 The same sun and moon we saw
Overlooked our separate trysts.

December should have seen us come
	 Sharing triumphs round the table
	 Laughter-laden as a fable,
Strong in joy to a single home.

Too-far our wayfaring had swum,
	 Crests and valleys and the green roar
	 Held us apart forevermore,
Derelict, adrift, who had clung.

Iron frost the great granite breaks,
	 Too-cold sap splits the broadest tree
	 In solemn singularity;
Alone falls the proudest rock.