Grand Comedy

“Come drink with me
and be my love
for ever and a day.”

Noli me tangere.  The history of innocence, mon amour,
is dead:  in seizures we’ve long renewed the morrow:
If the game of crime and punishment bereaves tradition
It’s, Caligula, an assault on Master’s Glass Bead Game.

Old vice.  Ever our malevolent faces in the mirror rise.
Fleeing through the air, we trip on bones, dreams, wiles
& review the flogged ceremony of straw: locked bodies
that crawl in frozen fire, shallow waters, rocks, lice.

We hunker, each to each, in labyrinth of dying rooms
& the warp of drama that unfolds is the wicked pantomime
of brawlers who tried with guts & flowers to smash the moon.

Gnarled speech.  Too late in coming, fingers creep, hold on.
But dash, lovers, the turbulence of heart on the crystal floor
as dreams of leaves are distant now & sleep is heavy soon.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Personal Impersonal. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s