“the joy of poetry that enables the rebellion to be more prayer than protest”


Did I say or know this was the name of the wine dark heart of wayfarers’ love?

Odysseus was born onto the shore from a sea of misgiving
and after them that frolicked did he walk & though
at home, such seething hands of crippling

did he drink and eat with an Island’s king
and spun a song in days and nights in lyre drawn
and javelin to his arm did prove upon his hosts himself
deserving of a boat

that the joy of poetry unwinds us to our coiled kept hearts
and sets in us a clock for keeping the gentle
heart of returnsa heart open, as they say,
to the sameness of our guests and us

I rejoice in thought of your selfness,
though I weep for the hour of the ape
I celebrate your sacrament
though blood boils in the hour of the ape

and here’s a wine to darken your tongue
in this sad sweet hour of the ape


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