tastes cooked in
some anonymous agonies.
sorrows void of causes are
terrible baneful dictresses.
...
music has been scattered into broken throats
on a string of the waning lyre as i tried.
lyre was broken down and splashed,
some in my notes, and some in yours.
...
every man has his own flies,
every man has his own ways.
he can hunt and kill his flies,
for their bright and humming flights,
...
the void
roared in full-throated ease;
the vibrant blues
flung a lightning or two;
...
another night has come
flinging far off
the riddles of the day.
the night breeze,
...
on my way home
the dark sky
darted drops
and drenched me.
...
I know you won't care
To peruse this thoughts.
Is it not your frailties
Of vehement adversity,
...
This is the time of isolation;
the interminable warmth of that kiss
vanished into a hallucination,
sticking the window panes,
...
all the men and women
with the cam and paper
reached the sprawling spot
where some cobwebs stretched,
...
when the ages coaxed a smile
from the dawn,
the night fluttered in the cages,
to stumble over the thresholds
...