Finita (Part 1)
The Horseman's Embrace

dedicated to the great poets
who finished the human race
before I did.


The rest is silence; too often
what was once a lover's
quarrel with the world
now cast a cold eye
to dark chariots passed-
but on the horseman's nigh
did catch something. Tis'

a woman in excess;
Her- an incoherent Woolf; a final
harangue as she flings
herself against
Him. random
about unyielding
unvanquished; which
neither admonishment
nor compliment- is mere
conclusion to die for. She

must have thought
to fall into the
horseman's embrace
without thought
is bliss.

Oh, fall
to the ground, it's all Voltaire's
fault- the noise in the gutter,
and the scream in her heart;
this is nothing but smaller streaks
of the the horror uttered in lands
stygian and bright; das ist absurd,
das ist absurd. She is finished
like us.

Before us.


cuRRent...jer


  ¶ 3:27 pm