First Stanza

First Stanza

First stanza
is something about desire.

Why fear the dreadful words

never meant for a poem.

A yawning accommodates
the souls dirty mark.

In the distance

I see an assembly.
And I know that house quite well-
the dynastic of jumble and maladroit.

The blueprint is love-

whose erection is a creeper-
with rungs made

of evanescent sluices

And night pines

the dominance of grief’s

habitual stair-case. 

And all and all

   and all.

The friendliest vein

of stratum
is a cool and brightless

shattering:

This is not me!
This is not me!
Not what I am!

Not...