Adam Fitzgerald Poems
|1.||Man Out Of Sea||2/14/2006|
|3.||On The Face Of Christopher Marlowe,1585||2/15/2006|
|8.||The Coming Train||9/22/2006|
|11.||The Relay Station||9/22/2006|
|15.||The Love Song Of Saint Sebastian||2/15/2006|
|16.||To A Boy Leading A Horse||2/15/2006|
To A Boy Leading A Horse
Under a shudder of sun
A murmur of wood.
The opal sky impure as lead,
The air is gaunt and azure-sedged;
Combed with glass and mercury.
A marble tomb suspended.
Under the flesh of this sun
I fear for your tenderness, boy.
Though the wind is not more bronze
Than the crumpled ochre of your skin,
With the petal of your phallus
Outlined as the rest of your body
In chrome and creosote, your eyes imprinted
Wild with tarnished ash and flaking rock-flint —
What of you is permanent?
A gash of
Shadow leaks above your chin, ...
I have not come too late, too late to the house
upon this seldom street. When one is tired
and one searches why one is tired and cannot
sleep, perhaps one fears they have forgot,
forgotten how much to fear one’s self, or
when the night aborts without even a moon’s
retreat, when the flesh that hangs upon the prongs
of one’s dull ribs, heaves and heaves a little less
with each sequent breath, when the lungs traipse