I. Orpheus
My dog flees from pluckèd strings;
her fleas command my tune.
What hollow body holds a rhyme
as long as my neck’s breath?
I could domesticate myself,
but in taming our lions
we tame our pride.
II. Abel
My brother is his brother’s keeper.
I am uncle to no abomination.
As we lie in the Garden,
(our hair in the earth)
I question:
Is Heaven above
because our heads are the seat of doubt, or
because our feet are the root of evil?
III. Hector
I was not breast fed.
I am not a fountain.
I will not hector you.
IV. Adam
Even if He and I practice Our secret handshake
in the Sistine Chapel;
Even if He sends me an angelic bath basket
with ambrosial soul cleanser
and holy bubble bombs;
Even if I am the round reflection
of an ever-changing God;
I still have to ask:
Is Heaven above?
Because my head is the seat of doubt.
V. Odysseus
Poseidon hardly even knows me.
An idle king in heart
reigns with a swift lead open hand.
Life’s lees are far too bitter,
far too deep,
and the wine is corked.
VI. Atlas
The sky may fall;
the stellar sphere may crash with all its weight
and music;
god(s) may smite;
the clouds may freeze and bury me;
the sun may swallow me whole;
leaves may drop and leave me bare;
the mist may soak my skin;
I raise my arms only to catch
that snowflake that dares drift upward.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
I. Orpheus
My dog flees from pluckèd strings;
her fleas command my tune.
What hollow body holds a rhyme
as long as my neck’s breath?
I could domesticate myself,
but in taming our lions
we tame our pride.
II. Abel
My brother is his brother’s keeper.
I am uncle to no abomination.
As we lie in the Garden,
(our hair in the earth)
I question:
Is Heaven above
because our heads are the seat of doubt, or
because our feet are the root of evil?
III. Hector
I was not breast fed.
I am not a fountain.
I will not hector you.
IV. Adam
Even if He and I practice Our secret handshake
in the Sistine Chapel;
Even if He sends me an angelic bath basket
with ambrosial soul cleanser
and holy bubble bombs;
Even if I am the round reflection
of an ever-changing God;
I still have to ask:
Is Heaven above?
Because my head is the seat of doubt.
V. Odysseus
Poseidon hardly even knows me.
An idle king in heart
reigns with a swift lead open hand.
Life’s lees are far too bitter,
far too deep,
and the wine is corked.
VI. Atlas
The sky may fall;
the stellar sphere may crash with all its weight
and music;
god(s) may smite;
the clouds may freeze and bury me;
the sun may swallow me whole;
leaves may drop and leave me bare;
the mist may soak my skin;
I raise my arms only to catch
that snowflake that dares drift upward.
