Betrayal

An awakening whisper: the trees,
and cold having seized the land.
A sad token, this abatement of summerís
sway. It feels like betrayal.

Caution thwarted, this body poised
for surrender. Not giving in. Not
being able not to give in.

            Threaded
                      ambition
                                 upon              desire

all thwarted, all trumped.
And by and by the gardens all
are trespassed.
We are caving to the ruminations
of a slug.





Pleasure

Am I devoid of instinct
and all culture now?

I hold up a mirror to see
a face. How bold it is.
Oftener than this I have
mis-spoke. How many

words cast as a javelin?
Into language; into
the symbolic.

                      It uses image
                      It uses idea
                      It seeks integrity of sound

And now, for now, the rain upon
            windows
                      patter
and stirring trees, it

            There is no method to this session.
            This difficulty is the difficulty
            of the poem to yield a pleasure.






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