And we think of sadness
But your eyes of gladness
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And we think of sadness But your eyes of gladness Save
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Your body grew big in my life
Your going was an abrupt Plop A mouse dropping through a hole And I have not seen you since when I flipped a casual scold Hurt and peeved you shot Into neverseemeagain Someone said you sold costume jewellery in Portugal A rumour I assume. I remember your Body's demented pride When you slept not far from my bed Your body was the usual riddle But the buddy blossomed Only into mighthavebeen And gave regret another poem. "I don't want to lose you," she said
All the world is in that And so you are all the world And losing you would be losing World and myself and you I shall walk in Reading darling Bittern Avenue or anywhere Always believing my Faith Will find me in and out My world in you through you Timeless in time one now me Always mine my guardian Time told me if you will I shall pass but stay In your memory find life Your Faith moves like God Your words were light and easy Where there is no holding The shifting of the breath of leaves Is fetid and foreboding With light the fallen trees Replaced in old splendour Green however The guide, the river for ever Confessing and glorious and even hoary man Will smile "oh you youngsters, always in love" He'll say and sigh but he wasn't vain For even of his span your good light Is a reflection of the lamp of the world Casting beams beyond "Have no fear" he said Silly man singing the way across She is waiting She is indestructible She is she was and will be There, unlost Errant timeless pageant You were blamless, you were yummy, your lust
Shameless your tight tummy thrust a must Oh and your bright behind was like A smooth and unripe apricot! as toadstools and
as comfortable as slippers! Much water has come between us since You slipped into the world of the sane Much water has come between us Much sanity, much pain I would be bitter bad
Bed and better ridden Does not the unspeakable Spring up again "Crickey, you again!" And pay attention "That strain again." Never ending ceding Riveting Knabe Staving my angina off with bonbons Refreshing garden I dip in thrashing waves Drowning or living ever after Five minute love and knees break Here we go again for...sake You shall be mine after the tedious herald Has played cock-a-hoop and hope's Frame is a wall flicker Which flits up unawares You know bat-blind A many-splendoured thing His heralds are easy to mind Reflect everywhere, casting Their shadows passing They are preceding and proceeding My Königreich my King Three fools Again John Donne, here is a fool too As none so cool as you For whining fools' heard-it-all-before But I know you in your time Had offered her your rhythm But our bell once tolled for thee I sit complaining for you for us And all who-you know! -we In constricting exaggerating fuss Paint by numbers after you, Learn again how uncool truth is and how true. For when each of us is covered, dead Forgiveness is spoken, it is said To those who were true in their quick day Undone and coaxed into how to pray Confessing-oh you know! -Birth, Love, May, Well the Boy rules, old poets say, o.k. And I am a fool too to believe it, do believe it- The singing, tripping, passing, unslighting day From love to grief, to be to flit; Completely three fools true Confessing; singing; imitating you. Days such as those are wholly symbolic
I know that, also I suppose Vicksburg matters more In terms of the trigonometry of war; But a historian who did not dare To share all his mind on camera Asked, what young fella Had not dreamed it through again? Waiting under the stacked trees Before disaster's stick, With Virginia, all Virginia there Defying the blueprint fire... Had not dreamed I say A renactment, a replay, a different day: To circumnavigate at night Or feigning an attack, by sleight March and then attack their Washington- A third Manassas, scores of ways To counterfact, spare lives, Save St Andrew's cause, Speaking symbolically of this and later wars Dreaming the springing beast thrashed back In 1863 the end of June. Instead the truth as hard as steel traps: slumped hopes, contracted shame, Trees felled, demeaning cries for bread and blame. We may recuperate as we may be And each not blaming, reclaim in a way Letting no personal grief overthrow Nor time not grind The less more grief Of the End of June Of 1863. |
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