write without melody
until there is harmony
in the words you write
until there is a tune
more tone than tine

love without harmony
until there is melody
in the world you love
until there is a tomb
more tome than time

 

 

dryads have fallen in love with me
because i talk of summer grass and sunlight
as tho seen in the darkness that is mine
as tho i stand beneath an autumn oak
in hope of lightning strike as airfoils
of leaves trefoil about themselves

and are lost for being restless.
naiads too have loved me well as a well
without the wish of water or sunlight
nor moonlight nor planet nor star
but with the wish for wall and bucket
and crank and thirst and mouth

to swallow fires of a flame unknown
to themselves. but the houri of the city
the bright city overrun and overturn
find me naive and no longer feral
they say look at his hooves of pock
and coat of mock and look at his eyes