Caves

but for all those twisting tunnels,

stalactooned and misty-moist,

(where ghosty happenedings hide)

lair of barely-something thoughts,

those delve-deeped, dripped, sunk-secret caves

of my mind –

perhaps you might have seen it too

(I mean that far-off, shining hope

I tried to make you understand).

oh well.

it shimmered,

blue amid the sands,

and drained into unspoken lands.

Easter Island

roll o’er, rising

flush with sky

colors spritzed and cold

against that mystic king-cream

mountain-cloud

that swirls his warm breath over me

roll, roll on, roll over rising

backdrop of the sun-cracked trees

presents me like some meagre sacrifice

alone before this ancient tide -

a small, tear-beaded statue on a

time-soaked shore

loll and fritz-roll

living pink-skied sea!

bid my thoughts be still

before your splash-spread, mute monotony -

pouring out some barbarous peace

quell such civil blasphemies