Friday, April 30, 2010


Walpurgis 1.


Build fires of the winter’s dead,
Old doors, unloved books
Unsent letters, linen closet of ghosts

Let the may queen come out of the dark
Let her don funeral lilies, her pale warm
Her bones, her flowers

Green tendrils snaking from cold mud
Flowering bulbs, alien
Shout down the wolf

A man, standing on a mountaintop
In the right light, throws his shadow
On the clouds, a colossus

Let him drape crown himself in horns,
Still I know him, let them dance back to back
In the dark, still I know them
Bring your black book, devil,
Your stained turnips, your black wine

Turn the world over and burn it down,
All the rotted scraps of history
In an atomic singularity, a bonfire of yesterdays
Still I know you, cold may morning sun,
Lonely shepherd, scarecrow on a stick
Crown of black winged birds,

Here is a dish of milk in the hedgerow
Here is a twist of salt in your pocket
Here is iron and bright silver
A rhyme against the dark,
A prayer for spring

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