Sunday, April 11, 2010


I can’t believe that you are going
there, oh House of Birds,
I warned you of my sisters
and you met my father
we don’t have the time
for cabin games or carbon experiments

if you are no longer a little boy
then leave me with my sons

my love for you
was the scab that grew
over the open wound of your rejection
it was the scaffolding on my basilica
it’s the moat around my fortress

and the cavernous darkness tunneling underneath
where the waters turn rankid meeting up against stone
that is also you

and what use have these walls
besides as my prison?
and when will I hear the music of my name
spoken without the sneer of yours?

I know the future to be naught but a rumour
scarcely less dead than the past
I know finders keep, the universal law
and I know the dark memories
wherein I lost you

I turn black inside and red outside

Hamlet grabs one hand, Holden the other
and Michelangelo’s God anoints my tongue
how long have they been ready for this?

* how right it's me the camera follows

now leave
your nasty design
has failed
and we are only bickering fools

* and rightly so my music plays

is there any triumph as sweet
as that gentlemanly parade of pillow sermons
I won’t miss you, oh I won’t, I won’t

P. McGreer

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