Feste's Lute

Foci

After we met,
I swore “eclipse”
would never
darken these lines.
I suspect my vow
is suspect.
For this round
I’m circumspect.
That you were
never the mean.
On average,
that’s what I meant.

Scornful Forms

A poem posing as a ruckus, ¹
a sonnet boldly staging brawls,
our traumas trussed up elegiac,
the villain of the villanelle is all.

Water’s Weight

Never darken meanings,
though the times might
stretch your neck.

For faces, fate and fingers,
face and fate relate, align.

Down it till they found,
and now, of course, it founders.
All the fondest matters faint.

Honestly, I never
found you to my water’s
weight or taste,
but grateful teeth
survey you.
Since I’ve found you…
can’t relate.

When I read
the penny dreadfuls
I suspected.

Caduceus

Serpents taunting,
mercury unbinds
the silver spheres
that populate her vines.
Sconces twisted,
candles on their sides,
baubles rob
her faint reserves of time.

Grim

Glasses bent
and tumblers
in the drink,
sinking with
abrasive appliqués.
Attention spent
on petty frames
and fickle games
that add their worth
in cents.
Brooding, sick,
silken thick,
braided tendrils twist
around your neck.

Epics

We toured the ages
writing as we went,
scribing out
incredulous events.
Carved dark mazes in our rage,
conjured minotaurs from sage.
But dreamers melted as
we turned away.
All innocence must fade.

Imperiled

A simple night by far.
A thoughtful sigh
at hates left on
your plate.
Aye, on your plate.

Fabric at your thigh
aligned too simply.
A risk among the strict,
starred eyes stray
for trysts, careening
fingers twist
and softly sigh.

Another Angle

These are the things
(you know) with wings,
that still get in the way.
The slattern brings
a higher means,
sets nobler laws in play.

These are.
These scenes.
These simple dreams
of maps as cabaret.
So sing and wait
for duller days,
as such, someone
must pay.

Ion

Crazed,
the hidden mass.
Dazed kids,
their hazel ids
an energetic blaze.
Self, a potent
maskerade.
The hazy maiden skips
unstable states.