Raymond Soulard, Jr. New Songs (for Kassandra) - The ...

11
Absolution
“Our only guide is
our homesickness.”
—Herman Hesse,
Steppenwolf, 1929.
Sing yon blood-glow of moonlit ardor,
tonight’s growling dream nearer our restless
fecund, & want better of time than its
brutal leavings, night’s anxious wane through
daylight’s familiar oncome, sudden a flash &
one set on by two, common wrong on a crawling street.
Sing & we deny trigger’s cry as this world’s
farthest truth, dare another way & later
come the numbers. More watches us kindly
than we know. Such the blind man & his
stick’s snuffle down the street, warned by an
alley’s breeze. A lost brother nods & remembers.
Sing while men divide the wilder lands into a
here & there, naming what they do not know,
missing the tongue of spark, of waver, of wane.
Soil will swallow the great wall & the ode’s
reaching hand alike. All soaks empty in moonlight
upon its hour, climbs its beam, falls untold within.
******
The Cenacle | 59 | October 2006