Jan 302015
 
The wound that springs in the brain like a spring
Gabbles and bathes the skull's tough turf
With its billion babylon babblings: griefs--
The scummed flood within unending.

How to tap to touch to cure the bone wound
That grows horned and hard by its being sown
A wizard hazard of once-love seared to burns,
A heart unstrung to shreds from its beginning good--

To console to care to bear the stone bravely
That grinds pink steeples to damnation's dust,
To save the raving brain from its mournful spurt,
To salve with grace the holy core till such touching saves?

In the bedtime deadtime of the day's darling going,
I see the white nurse rise like nightfall
Over the hill's swift wave over houses over all
Over each of us with her coverlet of stars undoing

Every unshrived grief of the mind's undoing.

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