VI THE RED WINE
Burning and velleity the sad part
Cleansing dives without a reason
Three quarters of an hour
It was the same image
Idle along when dreaming,
Then want a palace in the garden
And a heart ages old
What heals all now
Adhere to the Word
It would have been fine
If something real had happened
.....Psyche......
Where are your selves laid
Nineteen for the chronicle
(Honorable / Poetaster is an old song title)
Those things on my grave were not alone
It was deepened that autumn
Let the florescence turn brighter
With a peace and chrysanthemums found
Venetian blinds did cut the sight
On the horizon of March
Dear, I was still in a feverish realm
Looking at its brim
But I've come to hold your hand
The need again graciously
The time is different,
Don't transcend in the bus
For the hotbed and the wine now bottled
I'm so damn glad I'm here and sane