Later Verse Last Letters

i

The progress of the soul is a slow
Endeavour, full of the ironies
Of the narratives we create

These contexts exchangeable
Half-hearted escapes into subjectivity
That I know I am an epitaph
Waiting to happen, that my
Mortality hangs on a leaf

ii

Like a moment lost at dusk
That my legacies are without meaning
And all that I am will be forgotten

That this world is temporary
These signs we make to each other
Mere symbols in an eternity
Of syntax lost between bodies
Miraculously born and aged

iii

Without dignity, sick with
All that misfortune can bring
Tiding of a lost world

Not enjoyed by God, not followed
By the banks that profit
On the debts of the carnal
My art is short-lived, indeed
And not the childlike plaything
Of how a self-praiser prays.

In every flake that flies wide wandering skies

Leaves will rain the end of years
A pageant death-parting
O’ Autumn, it’s my soul

That gives you ear & listening
And hence who once was here
Cannot be forgotten yet –

My held breath in the day’s decline
Leaves will wash away what
Was once the blown night and day

Leaves and rain till the year’s flooding end
Your cheek against mine, the watery-way
With tears and of the blown night

The doom that waves her secret sign
Against my death, was my life in vain?
Adieu, waving last whispering of trees

Leaves will rain my last remaining years
With colors that will breeze to you?
Would ye ever wave an Adieu, for forgetfulness

Is coming so take flight all worries
What do you say to the breeze?
And what in that hush, say the breeze to you?

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Dance-Me-to-the-End-400908151

Patchwork Features of Social Interchange

Now tell me there is a pause
Of where the world bends, and we Begin –
The ferries of the best twilights
That were people, half-bloomed
.
Before they cross the river ahead
Each person brings us a symbol
Of the world, like corn and half-blown sunflowers
That dangles in the reaching out
.
That might have never been, since
The wind-burned pastures don’t always
Have much to show, a few smiling memories
That good advice that haunts us till our end
.
Now tell me there is a pause
To the affections that do not last –
What someone in their wisdom might have meant
In reference to their imperfect knowledge of us?
.
There is a strange afterlife, to lovers
And a peculiar premonition of strangers
Now tell me there is a pause
Of where we begin, and the intersection
Through the fretwork of our ghostlike biographies.

The Breakup

And with a sudden emphasis
Of our sad geometry
Like an old flower in a tender vase
You threw me out the window!
Circumscribing our enormous debts

A lover’s never so beautiful
As when they look at you with cold eyes
As if for the last time
Kissing you on the cheek
Knowing that this will be the last time

But I must replay the excess that stops me with its dream
Love is fickle as the sea
Though it is my rite to everything
The one in me who’s lazy & distracted
And requires art & romance
To feel complete, or entertained?

Trapped by the impatience for another
As if experience could mount immortality
Into my forgotten heart
But like a pinned butterfly
Motionless and fragile
I may only beat my wings

Your child seemed surprised
I cried for him, the last look
And I have been debased
Lost to the vast circle of beautiful things

And with a sudden emphasis
The purest sigh, there was not affection

Here, waiting for me, at the other end of the room
In your eyes, only ruthlessness
Proof of a goodbye so grand
Your promises of friendship were like
The curtains you said you would tailor for me

Thing one says, when trying to be polite
To someone, you can’t be the other half of the world – for.