Jon Corelis Poems
|44.||Notes Toward A Definition Of I||9/29/2011|
|46.||Sonnet On A Theme Of Villon||9/29/2011|
|47.||Callimachus: Credo (From The Greek)||9/29/2011|
|49.||Twelve Arguments For The Existence Of The Soul||9/29/2011|
|52.||On A Radical Professor||9/29/2011|
|54.||The Rose (From The Greek Anthology.)||9/29/2011|
|60.||The Marquis De Sade||9/29/2011|
|62.||Archilochus: The Shield (From The Greek)||9/29/2011|
Love has come at last, and such a love as I
should be more shamed to hide than to reveal.
Cytherea, yielding to my Muse’s prayers,
has brought him here and laid him in my arms.
Venus has kept her promise. Let people talk, who never
themselves have found such joys as now are mine.
I wish that I could send my tablets to my love
unsealed, not caring who might read them first.
The sin is sweet, to mask it for fear of shame is bitter.
I’m proud we’ve joined, each worthy of the other.
My hateful birthday’s come, which must be ...
Sometimes it comes on red: the animal
is angry and astonished, tasting blood,
or orange, like a sunset you can taste,
the light as rich as butter on your tongue,
or sometimes yellow: the attic's plastic ball
so sunny once, so sticky now with flyspecks.