Reposed Here

I

Reposed here, under this sycamore
Its leaves longing toward the sun
Caressed by its warmth
Suckled upon its breast

Yet you, Father of day
You have forsaken me.
You shone upon my brow
While I toiled,
And drank the pestilent philter
of this forsaken world
Attempting to quench my thirst
Only to be left choking, gargling, & drowning
On the filaments of what was to be my life
My misery & my strife
You left me no hope,
My desire, now only a dead opossum
Kicked beside a desert road,
You shone on me when I was but a young dandelion
with a heat that boiled my soul,
You shone on me the day I was wedded to worldly wealth
A marriage borne of false love,
The feeling stained in sheets,
As the prostitute departs, to walk the streets
Longing to break this curse,
To remove the walls of my prison,
Yearning for divorce,
Yet this forsaken ring
I’ve toiled to remove,
Borne heavy upon my soul,
Burnt deeply into my flesh
As if doused in lime
& in this court
Away from the din of cities
w/you, Father of day as magistrate
Shall I plead for divorce
The removal of this, my curse
& to the land of pious beauty
I shall return
Never again to see my soul burn
& my clothes shall be scattered about the soil
Never again to resume my toil
In my nakedness
I shall experience unearthly bliss

With this razor I shall carve my plea,
& write my eulogy,

“Oh what have I missed, & please set this wretch free!”

Then in deaths warm embrace, the sod I kiss.

II

Angelica, through her wings are gentle & fragile, her fame petite
Dances and plays & sings in the forest retreat
Her voice is melodious
her words are winds
& her songs enumerates unintelligible things
& on this day of bliss & pleasure
She darts through the glorious weather
Emancipated by her wondrous powers
She smiled and up sprang a million flowers.
Weaving in and out
of the quitted trees
Carried by the laughter in a gentle breeze