"bespeak" poems
Two inconnu sheathed within sight of one moon
Betwixt embers'and uppers consumed by whom
Two nocturnal allies have each exhumed
By Caffeine and Adderall's swindling tomb
And Nicotine's cluches; an imbibing room
He can't spell
I can't speak
Parallels
None bespeak
He's got canines and relatives
To replete empty spots
Whilst a book full of lies
Keeps my soul ersatz.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 5:52 AM UTC
Gone is the long, long winter night;
Look, my beloved one!
How glorious, through his depths of light,
Rolls the majestic sun!
The willows, waked from winter's death,
Give out a fragrance like thy breath--
The summer is begun!
Ay, 'tis the long bright summer day:
Hark, to that mighty crash!
The loosened ice-ridge breaks away--
The smitten waters flash.
Seaward the glittering mountain rides,
While, down its green translucent sides,
The foamy torrents dash.
See, love, my boat is moored for thee,
By ocean's weedy floor--
The petrel does not skim the sea
More swiftly than my oar.
We'll go, where, on the rocky isles,
Her eggs the screaming sea-fowl piles
Beside the pebbly shore.
Or, bide thou where the poppy blows,
With wind-flowers frail and fair,
While I, upon his isle of snows,
Seek and defy the bear.
Fierce though he be, and huge of frame,
This arm his savage strength shall tame,
And drag him from his lair.
When crimson sky and flamy cloud
Bespeak the summer o'er,
And the dead valleys wear a shroud
Of snows that melt no more,
I'll build of ice thy winter home,
With glistening walls and glassy dome,
And spread with skins the floor.
The white fox by thy couch shall play;
And, from the frozen skies,
The meteors of a mimic day
Shall flash upon thine eyes.
And I--for such thy vow--meanwhile
Shall hear thy voice and see thy smile,
Till that long midnight flies.
2.6k
wandering
across
the splinters of
squandered
seasons
the Hajj
of the
lost ones
completes
a broken
circle
returning
with hope to
burrow back
into the safety
of desecrated
graveyards
welcomed
home to the
embrace of a
cadaverous cloak
and the kiss
of carrion
smudged lips,
Hajji's eye
the decrepit
visage of
criminal
depravity
germination
of this
Arab Spring
mocks us
aromas
of jasmine
elude us
emulsified
concrete
clogs our
nostrils
burning eyes
filled with
asbestos dust
form
grateful
blinders
to the
ruination
of reason
betrayed
arcane
remnants
of our life
lay inert
in the open
****** of
fractured
habitations
amidst
jumbled rubble
the decaying
carcasses of
razed buildings
boast grotesque
sculptures of
twisted rebar
cradling artifacts
of a past life
pink
hair curlers
splashed
with sickly
blood grown
mold
scavenged
bicycles
limp on
banished
parts
smashed
skulls of
dolls weep,
her
dismembered
limb reaches
for a lost child’s
nursing
hand
the charred
remains of a
Persian rug
maps the
scale
of a city’s
deconstruction
and a frayed
regions
disconsolation
electric luxury
flowing water
the friendly bustle
of the street
bespeak
expired memories
foretelling an
unimaginal future
sectarian strife
enforces a communal
solitary confinement
in cold blood
we willingly
murdered
compassion
we
butchered
trust
we
euthanized
our
common
humanity
constructing
buildings is
easy
rebuilding
ourselves
impossible
Music Selection:
Segovia, Capricho Arabe
Oakland
5/13/14
jbm
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
There was a fog that seemed to hover thickly
over the perceived salience of his musings
It was as if there were a veiled mystique
that left hopeful understanding ,
ambiguously obscured ...
His soul's cadences fell beyond the pale ,
like a reverberant iron bell’s clamor ,
drowning acumen ;
albeit , unmistakabe crystal clear allusions ,
scanning inwardly, rhapsody in his mind's eye
Illusive accord ,
beclouded by seeming stigmas
borne of the flesh ;
delicately sensitive nuances ,
misunderstood imperfections ,
bespoken utterance weighed heavy upon heart ...
In the hush of pensive repose ,
flow of soul streamed forth from its retreat within ;
bequeathed as if darkness
was magnetically drawn towards light ,
purging muted understanding ...
Assuredly seeking all questions with verve ,
accepting , that all answers sought
are not meant to be understood
A realization of those who wish to speak yet abide unspoken ;
the unseen mark of those that wished they had been loved ,
befallen the music of a thundering heartbeat ,
understanding a circle is vulnerable ,
only makes it stronger ―
hence ,..
it had been written
in countless misunderstood ways ...
Knowing he resists an inner-voice to endure silently
for a fear of that which remains indelibly writ ,
tattooed on introspective walls
far removed from the afterglow of light ,
where depth of soul yearns to be freed ;
heart speak hushed , deft words avowed
in enigmatic tongues ― Vayu doth whisper
soul's prevailing tides ebb and flow
from unseen depths , permeating
deeply within inner realms
The spirit of soul once steeped his heart’s intone :
"Spell words that bind together passing strangers
*Coalesce thoughts to inspirit those whom often walk alone
Append the goodwill of poetry, aspiring to bond individual
hearts and minds with words of love and light.
Conjure written spells to bespeak sincerely ,
a faith in unabated love*"
and yet , he will write it again and again ,.. searching beyond words
…words grasped from emerging thoughts
drawn in to the light
searching for other adept words
to recite yet another way ,
sketch another word-scape ,
written with the relentless inexhaustibleness
of an unstoppable awakening ...
Another winter dawn imbues a new day come to light
he will write it again and again ,
... finding another way to be set free ...
Harlon Rivers
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
Dear...
This haphazard poem was written solely for you
Matterless, what you came garbed in
Fever elicited, passion anew
You’ve graced me, the repetition of ‘could-have-been’
I loved the way you speak
Of knowledge and triumph
And I, bumbling and meek
Tirelessly I sought and now still seek
Your council, your court
For my amusement, for my sport
Conversing over a poisoned well
I listen in genuine
Raise my voice
Sing with my friends amongst the din
Higher on the pillar, you I hoist
Pure skin my well intentioned hands mar
Clumsily, I lean into a similar heart
To discuss life and literature, fantasies these hands take too far
How eloquent the silk you weave, which you impart
Which inveigles and entices, cajole us into the city
On pale page, the street lamps and dim moon, art
Palpitations and liquor test the pity
Of light and fire
I cannot help but explore your shapely form
And yet, without bar
Across miasma, my guide is a cute little hand
Solitude, the pulsations do doggedly solicit
I just want to be close, you grant this
Bewitched by the creamy satin of pale skin
Distantly, warmly, I gaze in those God-given sculptures
Of the richest green and azure hues, bespeak feminine
Engaged in the other’s stare, two drunken apers
The night, black as sin,
The mould of outcome of we are the shapers
And I shape regret that rises with the sun
You come back vividly and lucidly
Distant and opposite, worlds across, you from me
A nondescript ghost in the corner
Who speaks so placidly
I remember with regret
I remember with exultation
I’ve ruined our relationship
Our relationship topical felicitation
I haven’t had time to apologize
I haven’t had enough time with you
If I ever see you again
I’d mend everything
I’d discover the girl behind the name
And cleanse the projection askew.
Love, Me
Dear... .
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
Ms. Del Rey says “the world is made for two”,
but her idea of two is some fresh hell;
it’s seems that Lana thinks a girl’s abuse,
is cinematic fodder one can sell.
The other woman sings about her man.
“sO pOPuLIiSt” with flowers on her head.
While some may come from poor & tell the tale,
Del Rey wears being poor like it’s a dress.
But voices that she channels in her songs,
Bespeak a femme fatale alone, and they,
Are both no one, and everyone in one.
The guardians of endless summer days.
Apr 23, 2020
Apr 23, 2020 at 11:57 AM UTC
Teach your child
to plant a tree
than pluck one
that was never
her own entity
but its own
Teach your child
to make a painting
of a flower
as a gift
than give a bouquet
that will die soon
or instead
teach her to
give a sapling
that will grow
into a memory
which will hold
much power
Teach your child
to question
than cower
to vain rules
and illogic
that steal her
playful affection
and her artless frolic
Teach your child
to climb trees
before the
ladders to
supreme echelon
Teach her
that when she collapses
she must stand up
with grace and poise
like the shining sun
for after
the night
is done
laying its darkness
it rises again
the sun
Teach your child
the colors of mankind
Yellow or Orange
Red or Brown
Black or White
to accept each one
everyone
without the division
of vanity
of power
or a crown
Teach your child
to create
her own meaning
of Love
Teach her to
listen to the story
of every tear
that bears grief
and to
speak aloud
to bespeak
wisdom and virtue
in brief
Teach your child
about the freedom
in and of the mind
before she rebels
to venture outside
with people
who care less
about her kind
but more about
filling the space
on a car seat
Teach your child
to believe
in possibilities
and have faith
in the certainties
of unlocking mysteries
Teach her
to fuel
her curiosities
Teach your child
values that were not
taught to
the crowd
then you will
stand a mother
full and proud.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC
You say you love, and yet your eye
No symptom of that love conveys,
You say you love, yet know not why,
Your cheek no sign of love betrays.
Ah! did that breast with ardour glow,
With me alone it joy could know,
Or feel with me the listless woe,
Which racks my heart when far from thee.
Whene’er we meet my blushes rise,
And mantle through my purpled cheek,
But yet no blush to mine replies,
Nor e’en your eyes your love bespeak.
Your voice alone declares your flame,
And though so sweet it breathes my name,
Our passions still are not the same;
Alas! you cannot love like me.
For e’en your lip seems steep’d in snow,
And though so oft it meets my kiss,
It burns with no responsive glow,
Nor melts like mine in dewy bliss.
Ah! what are words to love like mine,
Though uttered by a voice like thine,
I still in murmurs must repine,
And think that love can ne’er be true,
Which meets me with no joyous sign,
Without a sigh which bids adieu;
How different is my love from thine,
How keen my grief when leaving you.
Your image fills my anxious breast,
Till day declines adown the West,
And when at night, I sink to rest,
In dreams your fancied form I view.
’Tis then your breast, no longer cold,
With equal ardour seems to burn,
While close your arms around me fold,
Your lips my kiss with warmth return.
Ah! would these joyous moments last;
Vain HOPE! the gay delusion’s past,
That voice!—ah! no, ’tis but the blast,
Which echoes through the neighbouring grove.
But when awake, your lips I seek,
And clasp enraptur’d all your charms,
So chill’s the pressure of your cheek,
I fold a statue in my arms.
If thus, when to my heart embrac’d,
No pleasure in your eyes is trac’d,
You may be prudent, fair, and chaste,
But ah! my girl, you do not love.
1.4k
their hearts beat as one, sweet the bell of joy
ever happy doth it play, sweet the bell of joy
aligned so perfectly, affection ringing true
a delight most gay, hark volumes of joy
a bright blissfulness, dwells within the two
harmonic is their array, of such felicitous joy
ever they'll be elated, in utter glorious glee
a most treasured day, heralding with much joy
in sync bells bespeak, mirthful is their song
telling of love's way, so wonderful the joy
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 8:05 AM UTC
An aesthetic storm settled in the
wee hours of creation.
What of it strikes favor or disfavor?
Beauty's immediacy comes with
fatalistic sweep--demanding
principle, demanding ground.
Unveiled beyond time constraint
all over our world--in praise, in
revulsion, eyes score the gamut.
As if image begs love, to be so...
or unrequited.
What's plain of light exposes all
flaw or beauty in a single sitting.
The sitters vary the material world,
with eyes creation asks us to paint
what we see.
The eyes paint the sitter if the sitter
be deemed beautiful, instantaneously
sight's canvas may be left cold...
burdened.
Beauty aspires to affirmation of being,
to have it echoed.
Beauty's lain raw, holds what's held it--
as such...desolation is easy.
Eyes bespeak their volumes...beautiful
or ugly?
A sightly, unsightly moment given to the perpetual.
Epidemic pageantry--ordered by creation
make due...irregardless.
If beauty--eyes are for you--if ugly...eyes
are not.
Thus...of being, of affirmation, of visible,
of invisible--you...beauty are.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
Dreamer
Honolulu the magic of you can it be true?
To each visitor you adorn with vesture of joy.
Pulsating ebbing and flowing the place of peaceful knowing.
The trade wind gently tugs loosing the tangled spirit.
The honored dead of punch bowl and Pearl whisper softly.
Life contrasts with death but gives birth to harmony.
The dead guide the living into a higher arena.
We are called and pressed by the common that are now lofty.
The palms are swaying distant isles they bespeak.
Romance they softly announce lovers come to life.
The magic of a thousand moon lighted nights the heart ignites.
Love’s fire burns away all the cold the night is for lovers bold.
This land of the dream walk emotions rise and fall like the surf.
Vision of white sails a schooner racing upon turquoise waters.
Just follow the far horizon the spirit unbound freedoms turf.
Know all the ports with exotic names but claim none as home.
Never forget the Islands of Hawaii they are a font of love.
Today cement and steel take the place of the grass huts.
Still there is a spirit that pervades as gentle as the mourning dove.
The cliffs are kissed with a garland of mist the mark of riches.
So if your soul is low come the heights you will know.
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 4:14 AM UTC
The Mademoiselle I saw in the sea
Her dress impersonating the rhythm of the air
Her messy mahogany hair impersonating the rhythm of the dress.
The waves had their own cadence
just like how her tresses would cover her all of her face but her eyes
the waves would cover all of her body but her face
She was pretty tall. Even for the waves. Out of their reach.
She had the fingers of an artist. Shy and beautiful.
And every time they made way through her hair to her ears
Her beauty unfolded a little more.
Contemplating the sunset, she’d wrap her arms around her shoulders
I realized it isn’t everyday that you behold such magic when
the glowing sun, a crisp circle in the ****** sky
revealed a path in the meek waves that led directly to her
Impulses to take the initiative, capering all over me without fail
Though completely stupefied by her beauty, I could still remember every detail
Whether it was her eyes that gazed upon the horizon
or her toes that twitched under the water owing to the cold.
The interspace between us. A little extra than I asked for
Her silhouette against the subduing sky. I knew I was falling for her
Dear Mademoiselle I saw in the sea
Though enamored by all, you’re something more to me.
Mademoiselle I saw in the sea, I fancy you to set me free
Mademoiselle I saw in the sea, agree to receive my apology.
Wasn’t undaunted enough to talk to you then,
but I bespeak if I ever see you again
Mademoiselle I saw in the sea, I wouldn’t just let you be
Mademoiselle I saw in the sea, I’d tell you
I’d tell you, you feel like home to me.
Mademoiselle, I saw in the sea, i’m not lying when I say I misseth thee
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 8:20 AM UTC
Recall the Air SPACE
Air Space Air Space
Bespeak the Plane Back
Quickly Quickly
Saw The Flag Fly
Quickly Quickly
It Was a Lowx. Lowe X Lowex
It Came Back Buick
Wurick Wicca
It Came Back auricle
Quickly Quickly
It Means My Boys Please
Quickly Quickly
My George ,
My Harry,
Eric, Brother
It Was a Chess Piece
Hurry Hurry
Came Up and Over
Over. Over
It was An Angel
Angel Angel
Dressed like a Ewe Piece
Ger Piece, HerE Piece
It Fixed My
Breathing Breathing Breathing
It Was A Three Piece
Angel Angel
A Middle Three Piece
Allies Three Piece
The Right Move
Is Move, Ger Move
A Middle three Move
All Move
Now Move
A Lon Done
No
Move No Move No Move
A French Paul Ll N
Allwns Allies
Paul Apostle Allies
Atlas Alias
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 3:05 AM UTC
In spite of all the learn'd have said;
I still my old opinion keep,
The posture, that we give the dead,
Points out the soul's eternal sleep.
Not so the ancients of these lands --
The Indian, when from life releas'd
Again is seated with his friends,
And shares gain the joyous feast.
His imag'd birds, and painted bowl,
And ven'son, for a journey dress'd,
Bespeak the nature of the soul,
Activity, that knows no rest.
His bow, for action ready bent,
And arrows, with a head of stone,
Can only mean that life is spent,
And not the finer essence gone.
Thou, stranger, that shalt come this way.
No fraud upon the dead commit --
Observe the swelling turf, and say
They do not lie, but here they sit.
Here still lofty rock remains,
On which the curious eye may trace,
(Now wasted, half, by wearing rains)
The fancies of a older race.
Here still an aged elm aspires,
Beneath whose far -- projecting shade
(And which the shepherd still admires
The children of the forest play'd!
There oft a restless Indian queen
(Pale Shebah, with her braided hair)
And many a barbarous form is seen
To chide the man that lingers there.
By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews,
In habit for the chase array'd,
The hunter still the deer pursues,
The hunter and the deer, a shade!
And long shall timorous fancy see
The painted chief, and pointed spear,
And reason's self shall bow the knee
To shadows and delusions here.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 4:32 PM UTC
We know not of that Woman,
though ‘tis known that for years
she has begged for death.
what marred such a creature?
unsought furtherance,
everlasting atrocity,
or a centaur,
agog martyrs and honor,
‘tis certain that,
once the castles are built,
their emperors,
though drunk on ***
and branded by adulation,
shall ascend.
but does fame bespeak
an eternity of pandemonium?
Perchance.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 11:57 PM UTC
there is no courage in dying
the inevitability of mortality
defeats all mortals
words do not evaporate
nor has a life ever been
ill spent
the ardor of love
transcends the spare
bits of temporal time
we are allotted
revealed truth is
immutable, reified
by the quill you so
aptly wielded
as you traverse
new landscapes
guided back to
the ***** of love
may your heart
be filled with
gratefulness
may your vision
remain keen
the universal mind
fills with questions
asking...
did you help the world
see with new eyes?
did you satiate a
hunger for understanding?
did thunder sound from
your melodious musings?
did your whispers bespeak
enigmatic revelations?
did you knock someone
off their horse with your
eclectic epiphanies?
did you fearlessly
love?
give selflessly?
speak honestly?
did you bind
the broken?
did you cleave
the separated?
did you repair
the breach?
did you shame
the arrogant?
did you burn effigies
of dogmas?
pierce the armor
of rust strewn ideology?
bury the corpse
of dead religions?
did you write
psalms of
affirmation?
did your
lamentations
sing the light
of hope?
did you transcend
the confines of banality?
caress the seduction
of beauty?
did you kiss
a love starved
world?
did you embrace
our common
afflictions?
rest easy my
brother
you did these things
and more
you did not
do these things
and more
your mortality is affirmed
in a sweet symphony of death
your words are
confetti sprinkled
upon the earth
each letter a seed
taking root, sprouting
a bloom of truth
a rich abundance
joyously harvested
in a celebration of
the courage of
your blessed life
Selah
Michael Reardon
left this earth 5/19/12
at the age of 56
Godspeed Beloved
Music Selection:
The Dubliners
Finnegan's Wake
jbm
Oakland
5/24/12
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 5:55 PM UTC
in the song of robin and blackbird
Creator signs His Name
A name that can be seen and heard
by those who shun acclaim
in the work of scribe and artist
shines the inner being
in the music of drum or harpist
speaks the soul all-seeing
in the works o' nefarious schemer
in darkest destruction 'n death
in the silence that shouts like screamer
in absence of life-giving breath
walks the many-faced serpent schemer
for those with eyes to see
the signature of the anti-redeemer
antithesis of eternity
for every person stamps their name
in the deeds they do
igniting hellish fires 'n flame
or letting G-d shine through
so don't be flummoxed by this world
keep your eyes on your goal
for as cherry, almond, or walnut burled
your acts bespeak your soul
May 3, 2022
May 3, 2022 at 7:59 AM UTC
The tears on my keyboard
bespeak the pain
that is in my heart
I can't write research papers
about books
I can only read books
and besides
poems.
are the best kind of writing
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 6:03 PM UTC
He had no insight into the mysteries
Of the gilded sports
Of the British social elite,
By the time he arrived at his beloved college,
Long, long ago in a long-forgotten England,
And in later years, when he looked back at his beloved college,
He'd insist if he possessed a single quality
That might be termed noble
He owed it to his education,
And not least the four years he spent there,
And there’d be times when certain pieces
Of quintessentially English pastoral music
Still had the power to evoke his strange and sudden flight,
While seeming to him to bespeak a passion
For the Arcadian soul of England that verged on the ecstatic,
And others when he’d dream of a day
He might return to the scene of his flight as if in atonement,
And commune with the soul of his beloved England,
With a passion verging on the ecstatic,
And then put the memory to rest for all time,
For he absconded once...just the once it was...
To avoid being chastised for something foolish he did,
And he finished up wandering, forlornly wandering,
His boots freshly caked with the purest English soil,
Long, long ago in a forgotten field in England.
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
His favorite protégée
Mentors her day by day
You are his curious delight
You're always affable
And so unflappable
Yes you're his favorite acolyte
Though your aura's sacred chic
Radiating cool mystique
Your life story does bespeak
Constant fight
His patronage for your art
Remains for you're his dear heart
Shine favorite protégée shine
Rejoice that your lives intertwine
Nov 22, 2019
Nov 22, 2019 at 4:12 PM UTC
Honolulu the magic of you can it be true?
To each visitor you adorn with vesture of joy.
Pulsating ebbing and flowing the place of peaceful knowing.
The trade wind gently tugs loosing the tangled spirit.
The honored dead of punch bowl and Pearl whisper softly.
Life contrasts with death but gives birth to harmony.
The dead guide the living into a higher arena.
We are called and pressed by the common that are now lofty.
The palms are swaying distant isles they bespeak.
Romance they softly announce lovers come to life.
The magic of a thousand moon lighted nights the heart ignites.
Love’s fire burns away all the cold the night is for lovers bold.
This land of the dream walk emotions rise and fall like the surf.
Vision of white sails a schooner racing upon turquoise waters.
Just follow the far horizon the spirit unbound freedoms turf.
Know all the ports with exotic names but claim none as home.
Never forget the Islands of Hawaii they are a font of love.
Today cement and steel take the place of the grass huts.
Still there is a spirit that pervades as gentle as the mourning dove.
The cliffs are kissed with a garland of mist the mark of riches.
So if your soul is low come the heights you will know.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 6:20 PM UTC
Observations succinctly made
Bespeak fresh graves of newly
Interred friends or strangers
Turn on unexpected
Awarenesses of lives now spent.
Right or wrong,
Inexplicably we are torn
In two as part of us makes quick
Exits to fields of forgetfulness, and yet
Some part of us clips these memories to hold.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 9:20 AM UTC
Falling in it,
was easy,though it was deep.
Hardest with which I was ever hit,
without warning, swept me off my feet.
Saying it loud,
was tough,to ever speak.
Heartbeats silenced the words of mouth,
thought the quiet would bespeak.
Waiting for it,
was where I was but, very weak.
But the world around me didn't permit,
changing who I was,so I let the poison seep.
Believing ,as it is,
was real, and it felt good.
Of all the million things, it was what it is,
acting crazy and glad, probabaly I would.
Figuring it out,
was dark, that's why I could'nt see.
I was just your entertainment, without a doubt,
walked the road where without me you can't be.
Crying it away,
was bleak, and I didn't do it.
As I wanted it to very much stay,
a whim,that you stil loved me, though you didn't admit.
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 3:38 AM UTC
Find me peeled and threadbare at Grizzly Creek
Past a bend of Yuba's middle fork
A twisting force with incredible torque
Come to auric memory where hankerings seek
Express your desire for, disrobe, bespeak
I am skipping rocks and charming rainbow trout
Flitter sunrays off cherry dragonflies
Glitter as they do, they like to dandify
Join my hide and seek, be silent , do not shout
If I spot you first, ensnared you know, no doubt
Here I am, so please ask spring fiddleheads
If they not mind to spare a few
I'll saute them with lavender just to eat with you
Running water's stream bank, to me you are led
Let live oaks shelter us, for there our love be wed
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 8:51 AM UTC
To bespeak her time I shan’t
A mere penny possesses more value
Than that of which her presence preserves
The daring, lingering foretaste that is affinity
Though to raze all dolor she abstains
All along she had been sleeping with death
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC