Syrinx
Bug, flower, bird of slipware fired and fluted,
The summer day breaks everywhere at once.
Worn is the green of things that have known dawns
Before this, and the darkness before them.
Among the wreckage, bent in Christian weeds,
Illiterate--X my mark--I tremble, still
A thinking reed. Who puts his mouth to me
Draws out the scale of love and dread--
O ramify, sole antidote! Foxglove
Each year, cloud, hornet, fatal growths
Proliferating by metastasis
Rooted their total in the gliding stream.
Some formula not relevant any more
To flower children might express it yet
Like sqrt((x/y)^n) = I
--Or equals zero, one forgets--
The y standing for you, dear friend, at least
Until that hour reaches for me, then
Leaves me cold, the great god Pain
Letting me slide back into my scarred case
Whose silvery breath-tarnished tones
No longer rivet bone and star in place
Or keep from shrivelling, leather round a stone,
The sunbather's precocious apricot
Or stop the four winds racing overhead
Nought
Waste Eased
Sought
Created by
guccipiggy
Last modified
2005-03-17 09:04 PM
