in

Desiring Purpose

There has always been the tendency

to take and tack

to a strange, discursive emptiness

any furore that will push the slack

to a fiery tautness. This occurs

in women and men who,

having once known the force of purpose,

can never let rot do.

I have been ragged now for days

with a rage that burns to a head

of hopeless mockery, and its flame

reddens coals born and bred

in my mouth. All the long summer,

all those sumptuous boughs, those wooded wealds,

have collapsed in vigorous fears whose first

thrust menaces all my shields.

(from “The Light Of Day (I)” – a collection to be published soon)

What do you think?

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