acts
all would envy a return to bloom
for surely days are far too few
and in its revisitation and its propagation re-examine
see
and feel the odours of times passage
henchman of negation stand away
no more the tender of the same upon our body perfect
its lies, slander and its calumny
desist all lines and sagging evidence of withered eras past
where the simple frequentation of youth
its radical deviance just a camouflage
for heritage will come upon us as our parentage
and our understanding of their cause
so return to the oxygenate now
which has has its own laws and better causes
those accumulate perceptions and their caustic moulding
and the times of joy and love and pleasure too
so if i cupped hands i might catch them all
and in the water drop them
where like small fish that wrangle with the predators in lairs
they may flirt with dangers as do my tortured ways
which pass across the hills
a dark globe hung above the land
i might return to change the past
and with fortunes lights which transpire
like each little piece of water dance upon a windy air
air that smells of cold, of clamour, and of colour
the causes of its sudden metamorphosis
are clear as its fluid and the air itself
for to peel the layers constitutive of certain human hearts
written by a sleeper god or hammered its sediment
in idleness amid the breath of fury that life's tumult renders all around
would render one annealed renewed
its pressure the enthusiasm of say an embrace
where one may take the fates as one seizes
the perennial temporality of their hands
and in their shaking as they dance
the hollowed cups agrip
wish a better world into the hand of man
or suffer with their suffering
circling their youth as if it were there
a last present
laid to sleep
for when they become themselves celestial
they may dance with that handshake
in their hollow allowed of time
live like hands to seize and like
in the decency of the touch
consider
that one may lessen the tears of sun’s
like spindrifts over the snow kempt peaks
touched by stars and winter sunlight
for sure there are few footfalls there
and some buried like icemen in its passages of ice
compartmented in their winter hermitage
jaws agape and racked with pain
and abscess on their bones of hope
for in the past and in future eyes
man acts and man will act
and this in his benefit that some esteem
laud the greed and profiteering winners of this globe
as if they had virtue
and in general i would dare to write
they have only endeavour
and otherwise a palace full of junk