Sleep descends on gentle air
combing evening's purple hair
Angels glide down heaven's stair
to gather up our daily care

We should honor men of yore
country squires who lived before
men who came of noble roots
hedged by horses, crops, and boots -

Who replaced those men of yore
men whose presence filled a door
men who wouldn't take the bait
of the latest thing to hate?

There are those who you can find
of the selfless, meek, and kind -
But, these days those men are feared
by the jealous, they are jeered -

Here we watch accusing fools
weaving all their woke-up rules -
Why do they do what they do?
Because the devil told them to -

Charred two-by-four fingers reaching to heartless clouds
as if begging Olympian gods to revoke Time's cruel jest
and reverse the flames of hellish appetite
to re-edify the humble house of a mishandled youth

Even a hovel is better than a pit

Sad-soaked earth in muddy remnants
of firehose ***** wet accusatory puddles
in apologetic licks
fake-begging forgiveness
while secretly hiding
sardonic grins of Neroesque thrills
of remembered flames while
tongue-stroked teeth proclaim victory
of one more pyromaniacal gorge
to be relived
and relived
and filed in the gray-matter library of ***** memories
to summon and chew for pleasure
on nights filled with the vacuum-gape
of nothing in particular

One Swinburneian spark whispers
"Enough"
while the Housmanian bat-squeak urges
"More"
and the Voltaireian whale-breach booms
"Yes!"

The only dark, wet echo that sounds
in the unfeeling distance is
"Why not?  I like orange."
and four more lives are swept
into the storm drain
with the suet and burnt dreams

---- never say, ---
 "circle back" --
it makes
 people
  cringe                                           ­   crowd
   and                                            in              sa­ddest
    light                                       all                      the
      a pity                                    of        time        follow
          candle                                 mod­ern           to
                in their soul                                       likes
                             for another                       who
                                           ­   lemming-dupe

While alone the midnight hour
in the upper abbey tower
when the air became much colder
I felt a hand upon my shoulder

Jumping to a panicked flight
never looking left or right
taking stairs four by four
racing for the bottom floor

I will never know what being
or what ghastly hollow thing
touched me in that darkened room
promising my dreadful doom

But, I know that I can tell
in this simple quatranelle
you can search but never find
horrors worst than in the mind

with jewel-box vistas
the hopeful heart thrills
of amethyst giants
behind emerald hills

a carpet of lavender
blooms all around
while tourmaline waters
echo the sound

the sapphire shadows
on high-mountain snows
melt into diamonds
of glittering flows

from halcyon gold
on cupola domes
to pearl-pink love
in Bulgarian homes

the heart of the land
is bejeweled and complete
with tender devotion
both precious and sweet

When you question, you accuse
When you question, you will lose
Always  nod and soon agree
Always nod and say, 'I see'