LA LUNA

La luna, la que se encuentra en mi

que con su esplendedor lampara

me guia a mi porvenir era

suplicandome el amor en fin

si no fuera tan lejos tocable

son sin sonar ritmo sin fuerza

fecunda palpita a esconderse

en aspero, cruel, voz de lumbres

lumino brilla oh alma herida

fue profundo y lo es sin dudar

tanto abandono llega a placer

dolor tan largo luz sin vertigo

la noche intimida la cubro

sencillo el parpado escudo

LILY

--and what a wave must be, E.D.

Poet within, -- she nods her head -- always

Her presence merely requires mention

She is dutiful, standing or dancing

My miniature me emerges from me.

She never saw the ocean nor the Sea.

Yet she has seen the Heather anyway.

It holds no mystery that’s not previewed

For it is the answer to a prayer.

And her prey is the moment at hand.

Its hardly-thereness its disappearance,

the soul of its virtuous eloquence

held forward like a nickel a poem.

Arise on the horizon of time’s touch.

The presence of the sun and the moon.

GRUNION HUNT

If you can't beat the Romans become one then
 and then beat yourself Black and Blue come Bleed
For a Force without Gravity, won't stick.


For it hast lost its Consonants and Vowels
And replaced them with the throttal of K's,

Along a shore without a beach to hunt
Grunions, let's go before they disappear.
You can never trust but believe in them
FOr once as though Forever and again.


Kackle allow  but cover your bases,
Words mean nothing now nor may they ever.
Lost on the loins of a misperccieved face
Even Love trust no other but armor.


The river'll Flow over, say, Evon, mulch,
rich fertile soil for farming is left?

TIME PETAL

I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee: R.B.

    

I watched a Sonnet be launched from my eye!

It cast a larger net around my Feet

than anything that ever existed .

Greater than Silence as first fell its Tears.

I cried for myself but more for the Verse.

For what had it done to deserve its Death?

A mere innocent fated to be Squelched

Yet, I still ask for answers for its Sake.

As in the seedling bed in a Field Cried:

Weeping the Mouse for its Shambles Untied.

The house was never meant for Surviving.

While its flower garden tended of Time.

Ready as the Reply never asked for,

its fourteen little crosses became more.

A LEAF

I am the voice of the sun   held the leaf,

my volume is inaudible   of light

persists amidst   vacuums in ventricle

as is a petal   encircled of sight

and green the power of green reply is

agrees to fruition  recipe life

fruited the chalice    quickens to ripen

as though eagerness consents to inflame

a fire draws force of twice oxygen

silence is golden and affords the loss

then words grown more absent than soundlessness

are spared from the aftermath to succumb

they drop down upon the pavement or earth

continuously pursued vanishing

ANYONE POET

If it only takes a Poet or Anyone,

for both are the same and no different..

We grow greater by its Music agained.

All people love reason and rhyme as Love

Love's Labor Lost was recovered at once.

It foretold of no debt, war, guilt, oh source

You become to my Mind my Aegies.

For I love you more than an Eon dies.

I agonize over your Beauty, Time.

Oh Time, you are as Gentle as the Morning.

You arrive at the Appointed Lamp, Glow.

While to war is to venture a Great Fate.

Cast as it is a False Promise cannot.

Can't do for you what your Poetry Art.

DECLINE OF LITERATURE

As Depending on a wheelbarrow
Everything reduces to religion
And Spinning of hours for reasoning.
Love was what Logic becomes not as much.

The power of Art is not a Machine.
It represents the greatest discipline.
To drill at your Life bomb it with conscience,
Then stand in the mirror naked as much.

To be despised at conception and birth
and die every time to appease the wound
Go about to live in the underworld
as Dostoevsky was riddled with debt
learned how to objectify death for it.
While literature persists it Declines.
Crime is to be born Punishment to Live.