Scriptor Press - The ElectroLounge

xxii. Crush
Become this singing, this man raised from
dreams with a fury, this fat blur wielding
magick at green’s bidding, this hope a skirt
of foam near & away, this hard crying
against the softer choices, this charred figure
chanting goldensong, this singing from a hovel
half willing known again to its wider bed.
Become this singing, anarchies murmur in the
heart, days by cower & empty salute, nights
restless with obscure stingers, dreams plain &
golden, muscular beyond many songs, faith
the rain, & its cease, & its continuance, hope
ever the tide, the fire measured by men’s
blunt savagrys & miraculous innocenses, this
singing less beacon than stampede.
Become this singing toward a greater music,
greater silence, flicking conjure of the healing
prayer at the heart of the universe, leaves
grumble again with teaching green, continuing
flash of skin for skin, wing for wing, fur for fur,
this singing’s moan for dust’s keeping union.
63
The Cenacle / 54 / April 2005