Andrew Boerurm

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The Half-Rhyme Cycles Of Christ Fitzgerald


THE HALF RHYME CYCLES OF CHRIST FITZGERALD


I
In the image of gods — cracked mirror stoned pie —
Tears from the choir, tears in the fold
Holes in the fire, to spread cheer
Years eat centuries for dinner - all is old

II
Lies sat famished in broken spirits — empty
A fathom of slaughter is near real; even love
Fold that verse with some verve, try a lil softer
And that rolling like a clown into golden winds
In the image of sirens - our crystal whisper

Or the view from your eye has run into fear;
Each coarse of a beard stroke — damage to wear
What's done has switched skins with the fence
And now we rest free of the teachers

III
Dig this surface of earth, with your chest
Of swirling sounds in the ambulance, come
Bore easy with the black serpent
Through chambers of dungeon, leave twice

And those in the shape of hands; those in peculiar
Even ones in vehicular poses — expand
Like torrents of heist behind dusk; exposing
....and out lends the jewels of their engines, like fame
This resurgence of pirates has ripened the future

IV
Springs of music; falling echoes and birds caught in sunset
Or spindles of air to carve notes - suspended
Like soldiers kissing the crimson rill - autumn
The darkness of truth is open for cocktails
Spirits empty; spirits disinter

Arcadian smiles behind robed alters - crawl out with erection
If faucets of egolight shawl the pulpit, lift their eyes
Let in pour the pains of village surrenders – with black flags
And out flow the eyes of pardoned religion
— Christ is my waver, Christ is my sword

Starlight, so fall and out from the celestial – tumble
And set free of the serpents and wail below
Lean to your captain — your inner rope
As the twilights of summer and gallows swung

If we resurrect let I suggest – or firmly prescribe
Or rather I scream from the curbs of my fever
“Thrust my seasons of youth – trust our uncles
We need not deduce from the pulse of beat druthers”
And all men left as the came – done with over

V
Each age, each faulted disguise – each bereft
Teach others peace, deceit and science
Beneath each death a flower in seed – war
Each rain to fall; a fallen father

Upwards into pyres of summer; birds in flame
Over the hills of your sorrow — a cabin
A cabin on fire in the name – of all men over
Christ is my name – Christ Fitzgerald

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