Thursday, September 2, 2010

middle age

Under the shade of melancholy,
mind may enjoy the advantages of
middle age,

full of sweet Songs
behind which her scream/
ragged, regal.

It [is] hard to find The path.
Soft words of grace gliding near,
wild Promises and Bargains between them.

It was a good season,
whose heart's best are etched into wrinkles,
acquiring a peculiar glory
‘What's the point?’ they seem to say.

I leave alone, with my own unsettled thoughts...
I wonder how we should regard loss.

. . . . . . . .

The OED word of the day for the erasure poem is 'desert.'