Friday, April 07, 2006

15. "Confused dreams. Broken sleep."

A garden's strange frith i found my foot steps' play headed t'ward; HEARTBREAK
was spelled out over its doors by the much-cursed stones convicts must break.

Far-famed indeed, this place, which my approach proved empty except for
the migrant terns of cold climes; their thin cries made fin'lly my teeth ache.

If i stayed here before, i knew not; there seemed much to be learned more
although i remembered much, too, & found my way without mistake.

Sometimes i drew pictures by tearing out great swathes from soft greensward.
Sometimes my voice became wild music, soul-charged, soaring for song's sake.

This lost explorer might for years have lived there, seldom bored or tired,
& missed
cars only; i felt fine--but for these restless terns who traik.


Blogger michael said...

In quantitative meter.

11:03 AM  

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