Kicking The Coals

It’s tough, love’s eternal,

and tougher men are not inflexible,

persistent as the flux

and sudden flame touches each

in every light as it passes

on to others; it’s tough to cede a torch,

or weigh it as release or respite,

till returned endurance and resilience

charge anticipation through the night;

it’s tough to hope and count on

love’s recurrent pentecostal romp,

hardened by its frequent flight,

and know through darkness any man

an ember is and breathlessly revives

The Campfire Conference

whatever order may entail

upon the structures that detail

circumstance and happenstance,

it falls apart; it flies away;

it is not solid quick belief, not faith,

but these be moving too;

in time, in thought, in visible relief;

a shadow left of light’s collision with itself,

on matter, moment, mode, less than these;

itself these things arrange

more vibrant for silences that never are

 

repetitious heartbeat in green stone

words in rain styled clay

To A Hedgerose

but it was not long among the roses,

to forgo sensibility, soft and foolish,

checked in passive light, light,

and slightly sigh and lay aside

bag and adage, just to be,

and, so unstung stay

unknowingly annealed

thought’s tempered flight,

fancy aromatic; these weeds I’m wearing

thin have become the half of it

The Vow

make me some pieces neatly saith she

of joinery and flagstone fore the briar

joinery of trellis-wood and high wire

sweet steady cedar neatly saith she

 

brake it with teasel sweetly saith she

set saddlery and flag seat fore the byre

saddlery of cloth and goodly attire

fleet steady stallions sweetly saith she

 

take to the distance fleetly saith she

on Memory unflagging fore Desire

Memory of wild blood and fine sire

field bred unbridled fleetly saith she

 

stake to the distaff freely saith she

thy blazonry and flagstaff fore the spire

blazonry and bridals hued as wild fire

kneel said she softly freely saith he