And Marry Whom or What I May


Here stands miscellaneous enterprise
Whatever design my maker might
Prophesize, I shall do

Flowers & Suns understand
Hope is the thing with features
That allows us to fly
Choice the banter of the soul
At the brink of an anomaly

Society is made to control you
The cities keep you in slavery
And love, she binds you good

In her traditions, customs, rites
Another nuclear family, just what
The world needs, here stands a lifetime
Our natural portion of defeat
The pale luck of our suffering

Men too straight might stoop again
Women too generous, might
Welcome martyhood, what choice

Does an altruist have in a corrupt world?
Whatever design my maker made
I will fill my stars on earth in full
Taught waiting with myself until
The appointment with eternity

Has lost its meaning, I am afraid
Every moment is an eternal altitude
And Fate, means neither good or evil

There is a science to reality
“It is what it is”, they softly whisper
Never mind my breathless anvil!
Never mind repose, there exists no such thing
All is labour and tugging and forge

Until the years rivet faster still
To quiet your lungs of all this breathing
To still the beating heart, that doesn’t
Know how to stop.


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To a Heart so desperately in Port


I am oppressed by Cathedral tunes
Of another age, or am I so ancient thus?
Carrying a Heavenly Hurt

From life to life, like a thief –
With little internal indifference
And hugged purple scars

That give me my cup of meaning
For the water of brief identity
It’s an imperial affliction to be

A part of a world you don’t believe in
A species, that made wrong choices
There’s shadows everywhere

Hold your breath, do not partake
In the look of death, though it kills you
Without a sound, this is the life

We have been given –
the appalling calculations, as a
Funeral on the road, with

No pennies for flowers
Without self-forgiveness on wild nights.

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on Being Other Centered


I scarce esteem the business of a name
Time and being, too closely knelt –
To be somebody is surely
A bondage, as a play, the debts

Of somebody else’s keeping
In some spaces, imprisonment
With other co-conspirators, sweet
I scarce esteem my time on the Earth

Less with my comrades
Few and far-between though they call –
Bring my past despair, those
Bands of spice, talks or reckoning

So I may take flight from these
Boundaries of sense-in-pain
For consciousness is thus sandwiched
Between Eternity and time, and others

I can do without time and Eternity
Enough to be at heart with beloveds.

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