Poetry

This page holds a collection of poems that appear in full or in part in Lessons in Love. My thanks go out to community members Bruised Reality, Silon, Kusanagi, Doc, Waterfire23, Esan, and Daedalus for finding these poems and making them accessible to us.

If a poem is only featured in part, the bolded section denotes what appears in the game.

Roots and Leaves Themselves Alone

First Appearance: Side Event

Roots and leaves themselves alone are these;
Scents brought to men and women from the wild
    woods, and from the pond-side,
Breast-sorrel and pinks of love—fingers that wind
    around tighter than vines,
Gushes from the throats of birds, hid in the foliage
    of trees, as the sun is risen;
Breezes of land and love—breezes set from living
    shores out to you on the living sea—to you,
    O sailors!
Frost-mellow'd berries, and Third-month twigs,
    offer'd fresh to young persons wandering out
    in the fields when the winter breaks up,
Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever
    you are,
Buds to be unfolded on the old terms;
If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they
    will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to
    you;
If you become the aliment and the wet, they will
    become flowers, fruits, tall branches and trees.

From Blossoms

First Appearance: Impossible Blossom

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

Ode to a Nightingale

First Appearance: Ode to a Marsh Warbler

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
    My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
    One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
    But being too happy in thine happiness,—
        That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
            In some melodious plot
    Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
        Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
    Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
    Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
    Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
        With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
            And purple-stained mouth;
    That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
        And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
    What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
    Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
    Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
        Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
            And leaden-eyed despairs,
    Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
        Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
    Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
    Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
    And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
        Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;
            But here there is no light,
    Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
        Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
    Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
    Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
    White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
        Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves;
            And mid-May's eldest child,
    The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
        The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
    I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
    To take into the air my quiet breath;
        Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
    To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
        While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
            In such an ecstasy!
    Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
         To thy high requiem become a sod.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
    No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
    In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
    Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
        She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
            The same that oft-times hath
    Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
        Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
    To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
    As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
    Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
        Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
            In the next valley-glades:
    Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
        Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

First Appearance: Nice Weather We're Having

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain.
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am the morning hush.
I am the graceful rush
of beautiful birds in circling flight.
I am the star shine of the night.
I am the flowers that bloom.
I am in a quiet room.
I am the birds that sing.
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

Untitled

First Appearance: Clams Tongue

As sweet as nectar,
As cold as snow;
One kind and caring,
One lost and low.
Reach out and take it,
Feel it and know;
If you can’t feel your hands
You can’t ever let go

Infant Joy

First Appearance: Before the Sun Comes Up

I have no name
I am but two days old.—
What shall I call thee?
I happy am
Joy is my name,—
Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!
Sweet joy but two days old,
Sweet joy I call thee;
Thou dost smile.
I sing the while
Sweet joy befall thee.

Untitled

First Appearance: Try. Try. Try

Wrap yourself in plastic Wrap yourself in me Swallowing a padlock Then swallowing the key Press the needle to your lips Sewn tight so you can’t shout Forgetting it was you who did this When you opened up your mouth Seal yourself in silicone Seal yourself in sorrow Because what’s the point of living When the world you love is hollow Press your face against the glass Feel the chill of doubt Your reflection feels what you feel That’s why it won’t come out Dear god. What must I do to make you love me?

Untitled

First Appearance: Neon Heart

Mistakes, mistakes
O, neon heart,
The way you make me glow.
I can not fathom
Life apart
From what you’ve helped me grow

Poison Tree

First Appearance: Glued to the Sky

I was angry with my friend. I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I watered it in fears. Night and morning with my tears: And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright. And my foe beheld it shine, And he know that it was mine. And into my garden stole, When the night had veiled the pole; In the morning glad I see; My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

Exerpts from The Everlasting Mercy

First Appearance: As the Sun Disappears

I lived in disbelief of Heaven.
I drunk, I fought, I poached, I whored,
I did despite unto the Lord.
I cursed, 'would make a man look pale,
And nineteen times I went to jail

---

Glimmered quick with flitting faces,
Singing anthems, singing hymns
Under carven cherubims.
Ringer Dave aloft could mark
Faces at the window dark
Crowding, crowding, row on row,
Till all the church began to glow.
The chapel glowed, the nave, the choir,
All he faces became fire
Below the eastern window high
To see Christ's star come up the sky.
Then they lifted hands and turned,
And all their lifted fingers burned,
Burned like the golden altar tallows,
Burned like a troop of God's own Hallows,
Bringing to mind the burning time
When all the bells will rock and chime
And burning saints on burning horses
Will sweep the planets from their courses
And loose the stars to burn up night.
Lord, give us eyes to bear the light.

---

O young men, pray to be kept whole
from bringing down a weaker soul.
Your minute's joy so meet in doin'
May be the woman's door to ruin;
The door to wandering up and down,
A painted whore with half a crown.
The bright mind fouled, the beauty gay
All eaten out and fallen away

---

O Christ who holds the open gate,
O Christ who drives the furrow straight,
O Christ, the plough, O Christ, the laughter
Of holy white birds flying after,
Lo, all my heart's field red and torn,
And Thou wilt bring the young green corn,
The young green corn divinely springing,
The young green corn forever singing;
And when the field is fresh and fair
Thy blessиd feet shall glitter there,
And we will walk the weeded field,
And tell the holden harvests's yield,
The corn that makes the holy bread
By which the soul of man is fed,
The holy bread, the food unpriced,
Thy everlasting mercy, Christ

Auguries of Innocence

First Appearance: Outcry of the Hunted Hare

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr' all its regions
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear
A Skylark wounded in the wing
A Cherubim does cease to sing
The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright
Every Wolfs & Lions howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul
The wild deer, wandring here & there
Keeps the Human Soul from Care
The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife
And yet forgives the Butchers knife
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belovd by Men
He who the Ox to wrath has movd
Shall never be by Woman lovd
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity
He who torments the Chafers Sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night
The Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar
The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat
The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
Poison gets from Slanders tongue
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envys Foot
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
It is right it should be so
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know
Thro the World we safely go
Joy & Woe are woven fine
A Clothing for the soul divine
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine
The Babe is more than swadling Bands
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made & Born were hands
Every Farmer Understands
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity
This is caught by Females bright
And returnd to its own delight
The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of Death
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
Does to Rags the Heavens tear
The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole Nation sell & buy
He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mockd in Age & Death
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
The Questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to Reply
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesars Laurel Crown
Nought can Deform the Human Race
Like to the Armours iron brace
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply
The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will neer Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
Theyd immediately Go out
To be in a Passion you Good may Do
But no Good if a Passion is in you
The Whore & Gambler by the State
Licencd build that Nations Fate
The Harlots cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet
The Winners Shout the Losers Curse
Dance before dead Englands Hearse
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day

My Life With You

First Appearance: My Life With You

A room full of sunshine, blacked out by a sheet. It was there you and I were destined to meet. Not for the first time, you’ve been there from the start. But that room full of sunshine filled a hole in my heart. We both couldn’t see it, but we know it was there. So with holes in our clothing and knots in our hair- We’d get out of bed for just minutes each day. We didn’t speak much, there was nothing to say. But one day that changed and the dark disappeared. We took down that sheet and we faced what we feared. You became my world, since the old one was gone.

La Fontaine de Sang (The Fountain of Blood)

First Appearance: Bad News Bears

Il me semble parfois que mon sang coule à flots,
Ainsi qu'une fontaine aux rythmiques sanglots.
Je l'entends bien qui coule avec un long murmure,
Mais je me tâte en vain pour trouver la blessure.

À travers la cité, comme dans un champ clos,
Il s'en va, transformant les pavés en îlots,
Désaltérant la soif de chaque créature,
Et partout colorant en rouge la nature.

J'ai demandé souvent à des vins captieux
D'endormir pour un jour la terreur qui me mine;
Le vin rend l'oeil plus clair et l'oreille plus fine!

J'ai cherché dans l'amour un sommeil oublieux;
Mais l'amour n'est pour moi qu'un matelas d'aiguilles
Fait pour donner à boire à ces cruelles filles!

{{Poem|title=Possession|author=Mark Van Doren|appearance=[[]It Comes to Claim Us All]|text= Because this ground is mine it presses firmer
And softer up against my morning feet.
The grass ever is whispering as I walk.
The trees lean a little, and the spring,
There at the head of the road, leaps out to meet me.

Some afternoons I think these hundred acres,
Knowing I lie on the mountainside in the sun,
Curl over as if to fold me in; then, rising,
I smile and go, and they are level again.

But all of this is nothing to the night
I climbed that path and came into my own.
The darkness—my own darkness—was a warm
Still wind upon my face, until I reached
The topmost meadow, open to the sky.

One step, and I stood naked among stars—
White stars, that clustered closer and larger down;
Closer, until they entered my two eyes. . . .
When, deep inside, they burst without a sound.
|note=}}

How sweet I roam'd from field to field

First Appearance: Caterpillar

How sweet I roam'd from field to field,
    And tasted all the summer's pride,
'Till I the prince of love beheld,
    Who in the sunny beams did glide!

He shew'd me lilies for my hair,
    And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair,
    Where all his golden pleasures grow.

With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
    And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
    And shut me in his golden cage.
'
He loves to sit and hear me sing,
    Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
    And mocks my loss of liberty.

As I Went Up the Apple Tree

First Appearance: Everything Evil

As I went up the apple tree
All the apples fell on me
Apple pudding, apple pie
Did you ever tell a lie?

Persimmons

First Appearance: Cutting Through Cocoons

In sixth grade Mrs. Walker
slapped the back of my head
and made me stand in the corner
for not knowing the difference
between persimmon and precision.
How to choose

persimmons. This is precision.
Ripe ones are soft and brown-spotted.
Sniff the bottoms. The sweet one
will be fragrant. How to eat:
put the knife away, lay down newspaper.
Peel the skin tenderly, not to tear the meat.
Chew the skin, suck it,
and swallow. Now, eat
the meat of the fruit,
so sweet,
all of it, to the heart.

Donna undresses, her stomach is white.
In the yard, dewy and shivering
with crickets, we lie naked,
face-up, face-down.
I teach her Chinese.
Crickets: chiu chiu. Dew: I’ve forgotten.
Naked: I’ve forgotten.
Ni, wo: you and me.
I part her legs,
remember to tell her
she is beautiful as the moon.

Other words
that got me into trouble were
fight and fright, wren and yarn.
Fight was what I did when I was frightened,
Fright was what I felt when I was fighting.
Wrens are small, plain birds,
yarn is what one knits with.
Wrens are soft as yarn.
My mother made birds out of yarn.
I loved to watch her tie the stuff;
a bird, a rabbit, a wee man.

Mrs. Walker brought a persimmon to class
and cut it up
so everyone could taste
a Chinese apple. Knowing
it wasn’t ripe or sweet, I didn’t eat
but watched the other faces.

My mother said every persimmon has a sun
inside, something golden, glowing,
warm as my face.

Once, in the cellar, I found two wrapped in newspaper,
forgotten and not yet ripe.
I took them and set both on my bedroom windowsill,
where each morning a cardinal
sang, The sun, the sun.

Finally understanding
he was going blind,
my father sat up all one night
waiting for a song, a ghost.
I gave him the persimmons,
swelled, heavy as sadness,
and sweet as love.

This year, in the muddy lighting
of my parents’ cellar, I rummage, looking
for something I lost.
My father sits on the tired, wooden stairs,
black cane between his knees,
hand over hand, gripping the handle.
He’s so happy that I’ve come home.
I ask how his eyes are, a stupid question.
All gone, he answers.

Under some blankets, I find a box.
Inside the box I find three scrolls.
I sit beside him and untie
three paintings by my father:
Hibiscus leaf and a white flower.
Two cats preening.
Two persimmons, so full they want to drop from the cloth.

He raises both hands to touch the cloth,
asks, Which is this?

This is persimmons, Father.

Oh, the feel of the wolftail on the silk,
the strength, the tense
precision in the wrist.
I painted them hundreds of times
eyes closed. These I painted blind.
Some things never leave a person:
scent of the hair of one you love,
the texture of persimmons,
in your palm, the ripe weight.

The Happiest Day, The Happiest Hour

First Appearance: The Place She Falls Asleep At Night

The happiest day—the happiest hour
My seared and blighted heart hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.

Of power! said I? Yes! such I ween
But they have vanished long, alas!
The visions of my youth have been—
But let them pass.

And pride, what have I now with thee?
Another brow may ev’n inherit
The venom thou hast poured on me—
Be still my spirit!

The happiest day—the happiest hour
Mine eyes shall see—have ever seen
The brightest glance of pride and power
I feel have been:

But were that hope of pride and power
Now offered with the pain
Ev’n then I felt—that brightest hour
I would not live again:

For on its wing was dark alloy
And as it fluttered—fell
An essence—powerful to destroy
A soul that knew it well.

Untitled

First Appearance: I Will Deliver You to the Fireflies

Carry on my name; as if it is your own.
If I can live inside of you, we'll never be alone.
So when I'm gone, remove your heart.
I'll give you mine instead.
And when that's done, remove your brain-
Let me into your head.
The world won't understand us- that's why we lock the doors.
That's why we board the windows — lay our blankets on the floor.
The softest of materials, half a step from what's ethereal,
My love for you's bacterial! I've never wanted more!
Than to be the one you see at night.
You're my Edgar.
Love, Lenore.

Mothers Milk I

First Appearance: Mother's Milk

there's nothing quite like mother's milk
i drink it every day
from the moment the sun wakes me up
until when it goes away
when the moon is bright, i drink again
and then she drinks me too
i'm happy to drink mother's milk
i'm happy here with you

Mothers Milk II

First Appearance: Mother's Milk

there's nothing quite like happiness
there's nothing here at all
from the moment the sun wakes me up
until the moment that it falls
when the moon is bright, i cry
i listen to her moan
all i want is mother's milk
i don't want to be alone

Mothers Milk III

First Appearance: Mother's Milk

i heard that soon a baby comes
i wonder if she'll like me
i wonder if she'll like me
i wonder if she'll like me
poems should rhyme and so should i
what am i doing here
i just want to dsvkcjhgfsdfsf
i wonder if she'll like me

Mothers Milk IV

First Appearance: Mother's Milk

there is no you in you and me
but there is me in you
and what that means is you and he
dont fit, and yet i do
what i can see is you and me
should mean the same, its true
but if youre you and i cant see
what i am, then im who?

Mothers Milk V

First Appearance: Mother's Milk

sometimes it's like my mind is broken
at others, like i'm free
my ears are home to hummingbirds
my face, a lonely key
a key to what, i do not know
i prob'ly never will
what i know is i love mother's milk
i won't ever let it spill

The Sense of the Sleight-Of-Hand Man

First Appearance: The End of the Tour (Glasswalker)

One’s grand flights, one’s Sunday baths,
One’s tootings at the weddings of the soul
Occur as they occur. So bluish clouds
Occurred above the empty house and the leaves
Of the rhododendrons rattled their gold,
As if someone lived there. Such floods of white
Came bursting from the clouds. So the wind
Threw its contorted strength around the sky.

Could you have said the bluejay suddenly
Would swoop to earth? It is a wheel, the rays
Around the sun. The wheel survives the myths.
The fire eye in the clouds survives the gods.
To think of a dove with an eye of grenadine
And pines that are cornets, so it occurs,
And a little island full of geese and stars:
It may be the ignorant man, alone,
Has any chance to mate his life with life
That is the sensual, pearly spuse, the life
That is fluent in even the wintriest bronze.

poempoem

First Appearance: o Catch Me If I Fall

Write a poem about a poem
when you don't know what to write.
When the thoughts get caught inside your head-
when they keep you up at night.

It's okay if it means nothing.
In fact, it won't most of the time.
Just put something on paper.
It doesn't even have to rhyme.
(But it's better if it does.)

Untitled

First Appearance: Again, I Can't Recall

Flowers, flowers, all around us; to grow and then decay-
To parallel our livelihoods and mirror passing days.
When you speak into that mirror, what is it you will say?
Are you excited for the future? Or do you wish it all away?
To heart, my friends and family! For these mirrors are just jokes!
The flowers reek of simile! The metaphors of oak!
Reverse! Return! Repeat your words! If you keep them in, you'll choke.
Press the flowers to your nose; breathe them in like smoke.

Untitled

First Appearance: Halfway Down the Wishing Well

A lie, alive, alone. This is someone else’s poem.
I stitched the words together from the comfort of a melting home.
In death her mem’ry fades. In the sun it shines anew.
But the beating heart within her chest spills blood atop his holy pew.
Can you hear it? Can you smell? Are you halfway down the wishing well?
Is it dark and damp and wrong and bad? Remind you of a former Hell?
I fuck the pussy hard. I fuck it with my willy.
I fuck it fuck it fuck I’m fucking pussy fuck fuck going silly.
Zooble dooble dop dop pop ploor beep borp booble doop.
Boloobleooble oopy dop bogooble zoopy boop.
Just wanna make my wiener strong so Mommy will be proud.
If I fuck another mommy Mommy frowns and says I’m not allowed.
I’m confused though cause this isn’t love. I’m stuck under a spell.
It’s not my heart that does it. It’s my wiener and it does it well.
Gotta make the pussy cum. Gotta make her cry.
Then later I’ll go home and think about how much I want to die.

Untitled

First Appearance: Halfway Down the Wishing Well

A lie, alive, alone. This is someone else’s home.
I stitched these words together so they’d form another happy poem.
I wish you were there with me — in the darkness where we slept.
“But instead you had to leave us,” quoth the creaking of the seventh step.

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First Appearance: Pseudonym

The town that I grew up in;
Where I still grow today.
Where skies are blue and grass is green and everything’s okay.
The town where all my friends live;
And where I fell in love.
It may not be exciting, but it’s the only town I love.

Untitled

First Appearance: Pseudonym

Noriko's poem:
No blindeyes bloom on paths I walk, but I found a shepherd’s purse;
With pockets full of buttercups, I returned it to the earth.
Now in its place, a pasture- cross the homes of hyacinth.
Near a suckling clover fountain and its bitter orange drip.

Untitled

First Appearance: Pseudonym

Summer. Winter. Paradox. No autumn, nor a spring;
At night, I watch the sakura peel themselves off thick, red strings.
Why can I see what isn’t there? Why can’t I feel the sting?
Of the town that took the world away and the evil song it sings.

To the River

First Appearance: To the River

Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow
    Of crystal, wandering water,
  Thou art an emblem of the glow
      Of beauty—the unhidden heart—
      The playful maziness of art
  In old Alberto’s daughter;

  But when within thy wave she looks—
      Which glistens then, and trembles—
  Why, then, the prettiest of brooks
      Her worshipper resembles;
  For in my heart, as in thy stream,
    Her image deeply lies—
  His heart which trembles at the beam
    Of her soul-searching eyes.

The Chimney Sweeper

First Appearance: Worry Not, The Mason Jar

When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry " 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.

There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved, so I said,
"Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."

And so he was quiet, & that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping he had such a sight!
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, & Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black;

And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins & set them all free;
Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing they run,
And wash in a river and shine in the Sun.
'
Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind.
And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father & never want joy.

And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm;
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

A solemn thing — it was — I said

First Appearance: Eternity Until

A solemn thing — it was — I said —
A woman — white — to be —
And wear — if God should count me fit —
Her blameless mystery —
'
A hallowed thing — to drop a life
Into the purple well —
Too plummetless — that it return —
Eternity — until —

I pondered how the bliss would look —
And would it feel as big —
When I could take it in my hand —
As hovering — seen — through fog —

And then — the size of this “small” life —
The Sages — call it small —
Swelled — like Horizons — in my vest —
And I sneered — softly — “small”!

Untitled

First Appearance: Young Cardinals

Redbirds bleed and blue ones die — that's the nature of this world of mine.
The green ones sing, the yellows cry — yet still the redbirds bleed. But why?
I close my book. Breathe out a sigh. Then pierce the glass with both my eyes.
Approach the window, scan the sky — beneath the clouds, above the pines.
The blue ones fall as the red ones rise. Don't ask me how, I won't reply.
I can't tell you why the cardinals fly. I can't tell you why the blues won't try.
I can't tell you anything as I-
I hate this fucking world of mine.
I hate the birds. I hate the sky. I hate paper, pencils, crooked lines.
These are reasons why I sometimes try imagining that I am blind.
I know there's beauty here.
There has to be.
It's just way too hard to find.

Redbirds bleed and blue ones die — that's the nature of this world of mine.
There's no song to sing nor hymn to cry — just an aching heart and wat'ry eyes.
I hate love and lust and God and lies. I hate hummingbirds. The word "Goodbye."
But if you'd ask me now, beneath this sky-
I could tell you why the cardinals fly.