Hyde Park
The dark bloom watch grow,
clatter down the swell,
blanched white the meadow
on the prowl bids light farewell ---
coming to an end each pale shadow
bullied by light burn black with night
and fly high. Love quavers in the grass,
what Love made want shall pass,
quickly close the quiet dark cast
the green shout roar of insects outlast
the silver-bladed hush of moonlight
and rub the backs of stars asleep
and fleshy whirlpools dream of light,
sweep clean upstairs chamber night.
Fate's Little Flower
Fate's little prickly red flower
in the lapel of the young man,
as he wanders the garish streets
of the world's great imbecile heart,
yearning for the undisguised testimonials
in the cosmic electric reflections of beersigns ---
where the insane asylums of heaven flicker up,
shocking with their deadpan revelations
in the hour of the night's ill-starred existence.
***
Fate's Little Flower
Fate's little prickly red flower
in the lapel of the young man,
as he wanders the garish streets
of the world's great imbecile heart,
yearning for the undisguised testimonials
in the cosmic electric reflections of beersigns ---
where the insane asylums of heaven flicker up,
shocking with their deadpan revelations
in the hour of the night's ill-starred existence.
***
(These works originally ran in Sparks)
http://www.keystonenet.com/~jesch/osp/sparks/
Ernest Slyman
HomePage
www.geocities.com/soho/7514
email: [log in to unmask]
"All around the hours run swift
their foolish errands."
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