A hypothermic
jungle, limbs removed.

Garbled mating
songs and silences.

Arial view:
Technicolor.
Black and gray.
Black.

Silences.
Silence.

Was that a flower?
No, a candy wrapper.
No, a rotting fingernail.

The grey road flashes by
as I travel this road
of life and its happenings.

The silken and rough mosaic
of events that define me
of life and its happenings.

The plain and rough time
of the unknowns, the unexperienced
of life and its happenings.

The pain and joy, the pleasure and sorrow,
the desire and horror await me
of life and its happenings.

loved you once
love you still
always have
always will

I'm not a puzzle,
On a map.
I'm a plated tinder-cap.
  I'm the ***...
               You watch,
                                          That never boils.

I'm not the pressure,
On your skin.
I'm the Let-Me-March-Again.
  I'm the lust...
               You hide,
                                          That ever-toils.

                  (a pause, reset)

I am the weight,
That you ride,
I am the Ever-Justified.

  I am the Blue.

               I am the Blue.


                                                         ­ I am the Blue.

294

The Doomed—regard the Sunrise
With different Delight—
Because—when next it burns abroad
They doubt to witness it—

The Man—to die—tomorrow—
Harks for the Meadow Bird—
Because its Music stirs the Axe
That clamors for his head—

Joyful—to whom the Sunrise
Precedes Enamored—Day—
Joyful—for whom the Meadow Bird
Has ought but Elegy!