Consolatio

"You were always right, and your holiest inspiration/is Death" (Rilke) --------- (for Danny Frederick)

Even with all the sighing and crying, the spirits do mean to leave, (better hesitantly than never) And dawn can always remain a one-inch parlor cheek-- I mean dead But how is this a consolation?

Well, this wan morn (pharisaical-wise) really will go on or burst through fog til falling down it settles into one good eye (as so much dusky light!) The challenge of it is to wait dry-eyed, a peaceful calf-wait on sandy shores, yes, the sandy calf-wait one,

so the Tree can dispirit the real, and bend, too, to the ground where geese peck for seeds (for god's sake!)

Don’t feel it yet? Look! the raised pink beribboned head of the lector, stooping there between altar candles (head over lectern), grows a meaty tongue & eats his own shit: dead as dawn, I mean

(2012)