I grow tired of summer
When the festival lion rears head;
The bleeding, the beating,
Been on “E,” and seeming, since June.

I grow tired of the summer
As it’s somewhere to the left,
Maybe up and maybe down.
But never nigh or near.

So, let pale moon sleep.

I grow tired of the summer,
Fall, winter and spring
It makes no difference.
Still I tire.

I grow tired of you, wherein I listen,
I ache, I’m adrift, and the dreams,
Shared atop our first flower,
Seeds beaten snow, have died.

So, let the two stars still and weep.

I grow tired of the summer,
A death and decay,
So crucified, that first modest wind’s
Dragonfly.

I grow tired of the summer,
Sustenance and another,
Wherein I’m devoured, abandoned,
Limbless, and left to dream.