Came, by the sundown mist of Lion’s skies,
Or the rare instance of walking Butterflies.
There, Wind-Quails escort the candle sun.
Then I, once gone, in quest for that old sort
Of divinity, a nose between the keen bouquets,
Too tumultuous to breathe and as lovely as love.
As I, a known Nightingale, nibbled an early bread
Before your visitors, bowing us all a good sense
Of loveliness and thankfulness. And goodness!
Ah…I’ve rehearsed this nod as a crumb climb
Down my wanton cheeks, that stretched to a time
Too tumultuous to wait and as lovely as love.
What is transcendence, but the second floor.
I climb the stairs like herons on shallow lakes.
Was that old divinity torn before it was made?
The church bell tolls and calls to sit us back,
And wait, till flocks of sweat rain in my sleeves,
Too tumultuous to storm and as lovely as love.
And the piano man’s finger hops a tenfold dance,
As your swan-brilliant eyes, and countenance
Had leveled pews; whose prayer taught the same
Nimble knees, to land where their faiths deserve.
So what is the verb of a stone? Is it my name?
To be born out of your call, and die the same.
Till Archangels fell! Along by the aerial deeps.
That heaven-paste on your skin from within,
So God and Man’s awe may meet; your opulent
Pinch bled joy, that melted laugh’s a tempest
Ride to a fantail’s winning ears. The sighs repeat
To a saying: Only a two-faced man is complete:
Hear me, O, but hear me, Maiden Everlovely!
I sing for every syllable of steps your legs carry.
So do not walk, for all’s contour frame goodnight—
Yet what presence! What melody essence bride;
In a fashion I so speak, as all gentlemen alike,
Too tumultuous to slip and as lovely as love—
A wedding’s an Au Revoir for a sure ‘Yes, I do.’
The veil’s an open locket for life’s container.
So may a smile be read and a kiss be said, and I,
May cheer for a cheer, to you! To that old divinity.
And my, to such a throw! Aren't you such a Dove?
Too tumultuous to spread and as lovely as love.