GRIEVANCE 2/26/07

from the book After Flowers by The Postman -- amazon.com

Grievance 2/26/07

 

Pleasure’s patience, Poet’s crime…

your composure has pinched on me a second time.

I thought to pretend you were prematurely penned,

I thought not to pluck again,

but a rainbow would run pale each time for your kind.

 

Tolerant for seeds untouched,

of love I strayed like vestal boys fail, more than such.

Thou lapse this afternoon for one hour before,

before thou shiver some more,

then thou bow, thou, a dream to touch, always rushed.

 

If I could or if I may,

“Hold close this book for a book”, I’d say.

Poet’s sway, Pleasure’s concern …

your blameless bloom is luminous to learn.

I dig as much as I may next to your bouquet.

 

You’re using the poem frequently.

In your hue, I am filled with angel-water purposely;

my shade must be as sure as silver would in shine.

You’re using buds in my mind,

sincerely, are you intentionally?

Pleasure’s prison, Poet’s doubt…

this shy hesitation I can do without.

Pensive aim wafts, but lathers my eyes just once…

of ivied hands I learned these last four months.

Without the doubt, what is a trickle about?

 

I am lost in friendship’s nature

like a drunk angel looking to save and savor.

Knowing you is already remembering you,

fear is what you turn into.
Almost to savor, you’re doing Art such a favor.