The spindle flew, and on her mouth his kiss.From off the sill the silent dovesShook out and tumbled, flung and wheeledThrough all the gathered stillnesses,And all the air, and far beneath,Their doubled and snow-shadowed race. At dusk a quiet, a felt peace,The great moon thickened on the rooves.Upon the pane leaf shadow still,The deep wood, […]
My love, if I write a song for youTo that extent you are goneFor, as everyone says, and I know it’s true:We are all always alone. Never so separate trying to be twoAnd the busy old fool is right.To try and finger myself from youDistinguishes day from night. If I say “I love you” we […]
Where heather and Scots pines
Remind us of evenings past
When the world was less a place of wrong,
It’s not quick & I’m resentful for this.
My SSRI & I are in a deep, dream-like relationship.
I am fully awake in the static;
when they leave, I shake,
when they stay, I sleep.
from which the grieving
can dial the numbers
of their lost ones and speak
to the listening dead.
In pity to our Sex sure thou wer’t sent,
That we might Love, and yet be Innocent:
For sure no Crime with thee we can commit;
Or if we shou’d – thy Form excuses it.
Love, forget me when I’m gone,When the tree is overthrown,Let its place be digg’d and sownO’er with grass ;—when that is grown,The very place shall be unknown,So court I oblivion.So I charge thee, by our love,Love, forget me when I’m gone. Love of him that lies in clayOnly maketh life forlorn—Clouding o’er the new-born dayWith […]
At Mill O’ Tifty there lived a man
In the neighborhood of Fyvie
He had a bonnie dochter dear
Whose name was Bonnie Annie
The vixen skreichs I the wuid
at the hinmaist o’ the day;
thon’s an eldritch cry
frae the day-daw o’the warld
yit souns for us this nicht.
for I could board tonight
to any of those unearthly destinations
whatever train I chose
If you suffer pain And you can’t stoop yourself for fear your spine, Stiffening under the strain, Will flex, with a jolt flex again Like the neck of a heron,Or a flamingo’s s of feather and flame swaying onIts stalk, or a mind goneSpiralling into itself like a dog’s digging up a bone Or trying […]