love march 200

 

 

   When wind, the jovial blither sings it's satin,

   and chaffs debris from seed or cheap from chatter,

   find a hiding place for precious bead,

   champerty as aid for natures matter.

 

   Where emery rain and jonquil yellows

   embrace the bone, fair eminence of the stem,

   find empires alone

   with festive sabbat sain.

 

   I've walked for miles with salient

   Baptist bones, to find the truth in you as satyr wise,

   no flower in a field past dawn

   can trowel the guise

 

   of even Uranus, father of the gods,

   uranyl, radical, fair sir, hold me still, until

   the black plaster in my blood sets my will

 

   hides the truculent, pasty man,

   past crust or magnetic pole;

   can join the love march trumpeting

   the soul.

Reviews

[Emily B]

if bill shakespeare could come back to this world and meet words like these, i think he would be as pleased as me