I may tend, 'gainst the wind, finding wee rest soon;

this evenin' even, Dearest, Favorite Friend, whom

I may seek now & then to swoon. When mere rest stays this hand, 'neath midday stars or midnight sands, I speak! I sing! I croon! I ne'er want to let you go, tho your body is not here to hold in this land where you fear to turn. Can you naught see that I love you so? Pray tell me that you can, and know that I know you know -and you may e'en one day my love return.

Gentle pity upon a waning moon, twilight
Soon to beckon me through an eerie tune.

But, Lo! to thee, hath I spoken thus too sweetly?
Lo! I see, cats eyes can catch light -she, my meaning.

I am your admirer from afar,
For you are a shooting star.

I yearn for you, a distant fire
-Forever fore and aft you are.

To Reality, bring me back!
In consequence of the fact

Loving you is in fact, in effect,
My only cause, of  this affect.

Oh! in truth it is mere folly
To wake the sleepy dead
From a slumber that wholly
Rests each orbit 'neath its lid.

Yet, Love knows no boundary,
Love knows  not when to quit.
I'll come to you, My Bride-To-Be,
In the Summer, upon the wind.

A king, a bard, round and round,
He seems retired, but hasn't found
What we see as universal truth,
Whereas it thieves him of his youth.

Now love stirs the  motley  fool
So his words might be dim & cruel,
Yet he crowns her then with jewels
Respect that comes with  *I love you.

Now I behold that murky echo,
                    
                     Just 'neath the closed window,

               And here I am a living innuendo,  

Tossing pebbles 'gainst panes
                            of stained glass. Your pains hurt me more than the panes


I broke trying to wake you.

The gloom in her tender garden
Of memories stains me just as well.

Accustomed to the night,
      I walk thru the puddles
Made up of my sorrow.

I smell yesteryear, static white,
      Vanilla Fields, and subtle
Time beneath the bow.

Your hair once would
           Fall around me,       pleasant
       Sounds of yesterday


Da-da-da   -da da-     da-da-da

Into the starry sky, I stare
Wondering if you can see
What I see. So far, so fair*

      -Dreams of you all thru
The night.

Into the whirlpool, I go...
A vortex of Space and Time,
I am consumed by you

       I dream of you all thru
The night.

And this heart beats on,
And on, and on, and on....

Down the rabbit hole I go
In search of a brighter
Tomorrow

           -But I shall dream of you all thru
The night.

*And this heart beats on,
And on, and on, and on...

You know who you are.

In that greeness of a young and an most awkward age,
It seemed my destiny to dwell alone in peace, in a place
Of which I could not dream myself being any fonder of.

And by the brook, is where I took, mine one and only book,
To read for hours, in a nook, 'neath a sycamore tree. A book
Which still I keep, tho rarely read, where lovers ponder love.

I met a man, perhaps a ***,
On the streets near my home;
And asked me he for some mon-
ey, he said his was more gone.

I had a bit, but only just,
Wasn't sure which to trust,
My head, my heart, or gut.

*I wish I had then but one.

Be it so, that the sole, most enchanting of all springs, desires to mingle with my
eldest memories, and all 'neath the shades without shadows all the while; and be it so,
that a dear thing to me was then revived by Mnemosyne, fairest water nymph set here in the Helicon spring, carrying me past my former destiny, to witness the union of my ancestors in that bygone style, unbeknownst to so many, unbeknownst to my other self. Would that I might have seen with your eyes In my earlier years... O let me not so dream!
But ponder the while in this, the election of
your beauties -so much surpassing. I hear such sweet new melodies, ****** songs of the waters tempted naught by the world I
did hereby leave, playing on thru the glorious hours unheeded by the dials, carrying the rhythm which tames my soul's wandering,
gathering my thoughts upon thoughts to beyond others thoughts, granting me, among
careless divisions, a greater knowledge or a faint calm feeling which I do so owe this place.
O, whence I have in mid-air flown above grotto's, as do the fortunate birds of paradise, now level
with mine eye, larger do they seem to mine eye, and more majestic to mine mind they could not be.
O grant me more than a moment to be here half-suspended by the windy current, as a warm bath in
the naked sun of Helicon, and safe as any creature I remember. With such curious whispers does such
curiosity speak to me, where all seems like Heaven, or what of Heaven I imagine. I deem these spirits I see to be as real to my mind as any, and do oft
ponder as an child, meek and mild as was I; and so,
floating upon this stream, go I on further now
into this dream, like the wanderer I have long been.
And the rocky overhead on the hill rises to greater
heights than my flight dares take me momentarily,
though my wings do not tire whilst I soar about the
magnificent scenery in such splendor like an unfurled
tapestry flapping freely. With a steady faith I press
on, yet again, and steal away, to return, return  to
land, landing upon the streamside that speaks to me
with a patient air. Ah! not so was it that I once didst
here lose my way, not even on walks across the plain,
the valleys, or any such sweet, sweet meanderings.
Yet, what unexpected comes? The shade of shadows?
Tempt me not! I exclaim to Sorrow, for long have I
since escaped that chapter in my life, or, do my eyes
merely jest, to see if still I'd want to remember all,
when that which I repressed then so the most in
those dark hours comes forth just as well? I draw
a blank, and so I rest in that shadow dark, arrested,
which renders me unwell, but somehow feels
familiar, or even most comfortable. I wake now,
feeling cold in the darkness, wondering, worrying
with a sinking feeling, as if some mire I had entered
in my sleeping. Wherefore did I take this road, which
made of my progress a mockery? Was it for pity, this
push on to self-destruction? I mustn't deem such an
accident, or argue on that my senseless judgement
played a part. O, where hath passed I! how far must
I travel to return? Just then, a voiceless whisper came
to mine mind, calm as any, to me familiar, though faint did
I upon the ground where I stood, whence I did learn
to what I owed this noble good. My spirit guide arrives
to take me beyond the flood, the flood of ruin that drains
now from the tomb that was for so long my only

— home.

Essentia of magenta in
Each twinkling eye.
A goddess of Valencia,
A princess of Versailles.

Each dance, flit, jive, bob,
Conga, cut a rug.
Yet, only one do I intend to woo to Love.

The smokey air! overdue heat! Can NOT  contain.
Ahh!!! and without a care, I waft Away  the steam.

Such worth is there in the so urbane
Northeast wind, fingers that do seem
Hardly aware of the ecstasy that twain
Did doth tend 'gainst the mighty grain;
Driven hard from a blue-grey heaven.

The temperate blast does so e'er pull
Not one so beholden or more joyful
As this soul loosed from the earthy soil.
I yearned to retreat, complete in my will,
To be so held in my eyes quite reverential.

The terrain lies firm beneath my feet.
With joyous warmth, for so does beat
Anxiously mine most libertine free
heart I cast a glance to thee -this the
Drifting cloud that does too follow me.

Satan speaking:* Return then and sin worldly!
Mankind's all for life! This give shall I, torture, suffering, My spurn.

Jesus speaking: 'Spurn my suffering torture, I shall give This life
For all mankind's worldly sin, and then return.

Beloved Mortality,
I do not make haste
To ask my leave for
Impatience of thee,
Not in truth, despair,
Or in disbelief did I
Espy what others grieve
And seemed to fair a
Worthier world for
Me: but forasmuchas
I shall pass, and pass
Into a forgetting, I
Pass nonetheless.

All on this world, on this soil
And these grounds unfurled,
Raged. The thorny bush,
The thistle sage, pierced my leg;
And the weeds ate at
Everything!

Bright aurora at my epicenter,
In sea surf foam, and shadow
Of the blue,
You pacify and
Imbathe me
with unabridged care.


The rhythm, the tempo
Of the fire, which dries each
Droplet from me, so bare;
Does lull me to sleep in the arms
Of you,
My Little Lovely Dear.

Thee I saw
Down rows many
And
Many rows down
Saw I thee.

.thee I saw
Down rows many
And
Many rows down
Saw I Thee

Love is torture,
Love is pain,
Love is an orchard,
Love is a grain.

Love is agony,
Love is misery,
Love is alchemy,
Love is a mystery.

Love is...
Torture
Pain
An orchard
A grain
Agony
Misery
Alchemy
A mystery too.

Love is what
Love is, because
Love is nothing, if that
Love is without you.

Words are Powerful!*  Now, somehow, dying are words, this is as sinful, nearly, as is Hell! Dying quick as such - for praying also, sadly. "So if He wish that end, that too is near; grant this, and trust as much as I!"
Dead not is His Heart! True, mine goes on, yet beats hardly mine. O' Heart! Only this is it, as it is, true, (be it Truth.)
Yes! Madder Words Do Hurt- badly so-they doeth so wrongly; and in breaking! Now, is that Heart? No!!!


No heart that is now breaking in-and wrongly so-if doeth they so badly hurt -do Words matter? Yes! Truth it be! True as it is. This only Heart  O' mine hardly beats, yet -on goes mine, True Heart. "His is not Dead!" I as much as trust; and this grant- -near is too, so if He wish, that end. Sadly, also praying for such as quick dying, "Hell!" is as sinful as nearly is this: Words are dying somehow. *Powerful are words."

Once The Garden, then a grave.
For Original Sin, Eden became,
Our Innocence' resting place.

In thine bewildered mind, thou art as peerless as the bluest sky,
For great works of art have yet to transcend thy fairness, thy bliss.
Could thee be sent as thy true love with everlasting tenderness?
Your sole desire should end with me, for it is you on which I rely.

Never again should doubt arise from the depths of thine own mind,
That this could and shall be ours to hold true with great elation.
Art thou not content with what I hath provided without cessation?
Thou art truly stunning by day, by night, being undeniably divine.

Taut and without motion my darkness does repose, after settling in, descended to the greater depths of misery, where conflict did me in. And wherefore I do title that interval between birth and extinction with a greater respect, tho yet, the truer aspect of my heavy burden could not but reveal itself in grandest magnificence, it's pride akin
to heroes, standing akimbo, triumphant 'gainst my struggles within.

Forgotten better be love that could not succeed, (true this was then denied.) Years to pass to sadder grief, by love we forced and contrived.

(And now to turn the lines)

Contrived and forced, we love by grief, sadder to pass to years denied then. Was this true? Succeed not? Could that love be better forgotten?

Gently so, the wind did go, go on a-whispering.
And thru the night, into the night, a-whispering
It did go. Go, Sweet Wind, go on a-whispering.  

In mellifluous tones, to the height of Christendom,
Sing a sigh, Sweet Wind, to the ears of ev'ry man.

Gently so, the wind did go, go on a-whispering.
And thru the night, into the night, a-whispering
It did go. Go, Sweet Wind, go on a-whispering.

In mellifluous tones, to the height of Christendom,
Sing a sigh, Sweet Wind, to the ears of ev'ry woman.

Gently so, the wind did go, go on a-whispering.
And thru the night, into the night, a-whispering
It did go. Go, Sweet Wind, go on a-whispering.

Have you such scope within
To devour entire so the thing
That a poet would so petition
You by night or day go listen?

If but one thing such a mind  
May ask of thee much in rhyme,
Be it sweet or sour, yet no crime,
Is to upon an hour beg a bit o time.

So be to thee most fair, fair muses,
Thou flawless, ardent, goodly muses,
The age of poets did not for itself go.
Muses fair, fair most thee to be so.

Sitting here silently stripping my mind of the setbacks in my life, is just what I do to set the record straight for myself -it's so simple, I smile. I travel in my seasoned mind to the streets lined with live oaks along the streetcar line on Saint Charles Avenue and stand in the shimmering sunlight between the dancing shadows on the broken sidewalk for a while.

In the classic void of reminiscences,  I see the staggered walkways set askew by the carelessness of Time, meandering past the stately antebellum homes, guarded by hushed sentries, these whitewashed lions tinged with the chartreuse hues of age and forgetfulness.

Sentries sitting for centuries on static haunches, frozen in place by inertia, while azaleas bloom 'neath the Magnolia blossoms that fill the humid air with a perfume that beggars the reek of Forget-Me Not flowers.

If I must travel in my dreams, let them be daydreams of the fruitful past, when the uptown scene seemed complete, with moving pictures in technicolor themes; and they moved the wooden seats back, facing home.

The end of the line was a block from the muddy Mississippi, and my lover's house was too, (although further up the Old Spanish Trail.) Once I followed it all the way to the Pacific, and a different time zone alone.

Torn, yet this stretch of night
Is not counterfeit to the eyes.
Purple heart bluffs, as ides
Of each month come hastily by.

Men of conquest, men of honor,
A call to glory is a call to clangor.
Yet still is the restless nightmare
Alive for the wounded warrior.

To all love-struck verse, echo well.
No troubadour could mimic so well
The far-flung hopes our lines so tell.
To all love-struck verse, echo well.

Bless the kind muse, bless the bard.
Our goal, our aim, to draw
The heart to other hearts
That do play the part.
Bless the kind muse, bless the bard.

Love will follow Love, if it be true.
Lend not Love to repossess, be true  
To your word, or the definition review.
Love will follow Love,
And if this be true

Then all love-struck verse
Will echo well with you.

I dedicate the songs within me,
To you, tho I forget their theme,
Be they many, yet these to thee.

And ev'ry atom, a part of I alone,
Feels, moves, breathes you alone,
For with you, I know life goes on.

Move a bit closer to me, patiently
Whisper your thoughts to me,
And I will kiss you deadly.

To wither, vanish, fade and diminish,
Dissolving in a glass half - empty
That forgets, whilst growing
In Time's passage and e'er
Shrinking with age, is
To wither, vanish, fade and diminish.

Darling, I heed thy cries as you feel
Blemished, and are becoming nearer
To Death than to me, 'cause I cannot
See the petals for the rose ye be,
Or at times sense what scents
Linger in your train, as you
Do wither, vanish, fade and diminish.

However, in perfumed decay, I watched
You sustain your image, and persevere
In a glass that I changed out and made
Half-full, being so careful when putting
You back in it, but still you most certainly
Do wither, vanish, fade and diminish.

The day has come and you have gone
Away, and those familiar feel an agony,
As we display you finally in a heavenly
Vase, for our good-intentioned and
Religious ceremony: but now I will
No longer see you
To wither, vanish, fade and diminish.

This is the place of love gone dormant for the sake of sanity;
Exiles from the hearths of home and kin's polite society.
The caravan of broken sleep/dreams file past the border,
And leave the world alone to hash out it's social order.

The loneliness of the frozen plains stretches and wearies
The hazy eyes of the dreamscape denizens in 1010 series.
The poverty of beggared imagination lies dark in the soul,
And I know too well the losing of what once did console:

Embraces, tender touches, guileless looks and intimacy,
Eyes that touch upon the music of the stars glowing;
And yet more is there you may have ceased knowing...
Merging as one by the fires beneath the mantelpiece.

Bear thyself forthwith, O Dear Courage,
Carry on with I to many regions unexplored,
Wheresoever the earthen floor can hold.

No quarter for fear to bear nor yet here flourish,
Not this breast or soul, e'en  if one the more
Could be taken, this hour brought forth to unfold.

Tho I fathom not hardihood, you do with care here nourish
My gentler soul, O My Soul, so you are worthier to adore.
Stay to me, and we will all the wonders of this world uphold.

And what of you, do any here heed listen to my sharp keening?

Do fair justice true, bring import to fixed balanced meaning.

To what place could I argue, herald of my past's part and parcel,

My heart with ado; haste not I tho to renew, it's most integral!

Aye, couldst those sighs and tears return again into my breast and eyes, which I have spent, that I might in this holy discontent mourn with some pluck'd fruit, for I more than mourn'd in vain;
in mine idolatry, what showers of rain mine eyes did waste! Thus  true? What griefs my heart did rent! That sufferance was my sin; now I repent; 'cause I did suffer ev'ry pain -and much melancholy. That vaporous drunkard, and night wandering thief, the scaly ***** and the self-aggrandizing beasts have the remembrance of past glee's, for relief of coming ills. Tho poor me is allow'd no ease; for, long, yet vehement grief e'er o'erfills, and awes -this hath been as it hath been the effect and cause, the punishment and sin.


But oh! my black soul! now art thou summoned by sickness, (deaths herald,) and champion; thou art like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done treason, and durst not to turn to whence he is fled; or himself a thief, which 'til  Death's doom be read, the guilty wisheth himself delivered from prison, but ****** and haled execution, (with Hell to wed,) wisheth that still he might be imprisoned. Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canst not lack: but who shall give thee that grace to begin?
Ah, make thy self with holy mourning black, and red with blushing, as thou art with sin; or wash thee with Christ's  blood,  which hath this might being red, it dyes red souls to white.


Tho if poisonous minerals, and if that tree whose fruit threw mortality on else immortal us, if lecherous apple worms —serpents envious—cannot be ******, alas, why should I be? why should intent or reason, born in me, make sins, (else equal,)  in me more heinous?  and Mercy being easy, and glorious to God; in His stern wrath, why threatens He?
But who am I, that dare dispute with thee O God? Oh! of thine only worthy blood, and my tears make a heavenly Lethean flood, and drown in it
my sin's black memory; that thou remember them, some claim as debt, I think it Mercy, if thou wilt forget.

This state of mind, this abstraction or release from reality, has a smooth continuity of which derives from misty mountain tops as my vitality and ingenuity pours like wines, like raindrops, raindrops thru lattices into glasses of fallacy that I could ne'er overfill, overtop, or like this purest galaxy drink to the drains when the delicate string pops, which bearing fears does not bother me, but is honestly to my chagrin, because now and then with tears I feel beyond youthful years, as tho my petals have been plucked; and my color fades like the picture on a movie screen -I can't adjust. But in my dreams thru the fog, the misty haze soon dissipates as a new love cares naught about my age -reality dreams after all.

Isolation often engenders depression

Depression is e'er marked by sadness

Sadness makes us expressive of grief


Grief is a distress that wears you out

O**ut is where we all should try to be!

Endless matrix shall unravel the undying spirit from each parallel;

and I wilt speak freely to her now, and when I see her in each dell.

By the light of a dawning spell, I read by numbers and defy his evil.

By the aging stately oaks, with their crowns of hirsute branches, we stand. We stand beside these towering canopies, raking and burning the dry leaves which have fallen to the ground, covering the landscape like a bister afghan. The charred debris being borne away into the smoky air, aloof until the sprightly embers pursue. Searing **** swirling round and round before cooling rapidly, then dying without a sound.

In the distance, I see the local church bells swinging from their axles -the clappers striking the sound rims-then tolling in full tones for the listeners within a one-mile range. The ripe fruits in our garden tree weigh down the boughs like diadems, and  within inches of our outstretched arms, they hang.

And the children play tag, romping in the yard yelling, "You're it!" and, "Not it!", all thru the evening hours. A smile across your lovely face lets me know you are enjoying the remaining day, and I take more pleasure in that than I can aptly say. Then we take a break from our toil and sit in the hale shade of the gallant trees, you drinking sweet tea with me, as we agree, we should avail days to these rare autumn liberties.

I am fire, burning, burning for another chance at love.

My mind is a vessel o'erflowing with many great ideas.

I am given to an unfamiliar direction, disturbed into one in need of sympathetic sorrow and affection, left to fall to ruin in a mode, a condition of the dejection -by the one whose tenderness once was, but by no thoughts is considered to be anymore. A shadowy ghost that was long ago and once before a primary source to my hearts little store, but to its succor she could not have been made to allot anymore; and by her own admission she never will put in again -for I have received well not a thing. Now, for this, my heart's made harder, that ***** of mine which I had to barter; that part of me that at a time had been an inviolable origin of gentle utterance, reflecting bright moving points of light divine and made of true substance: but in every sense, I am one who has become most poor. Without a home, without a cent; alive in Him, yet dead to her.

Hovering wind, here and there! Visit me in the dale of my thoughts!
Descendants of cherubs fair, do visit me in the dale of my thoughts!

Thru the vast expanse, you may esteem the knowledge I do know.
But I deny not decadence, in the manner of knowledge I do know.

Do search out an answer, from the darkest eclipse of my past deeds!
Here they are but as it were, in the darkest eclipse of my past deeds!

-Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgement ye judge,
ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again I pledge; for that is what the Bible says.