Following as up to Carlow
Shadow seen often in my parlour
Pallor pallid, taciturn manner even placid
He acid which substance reducts at touch
Black-cloaked mystical soul movement
Tedious tasks of plainly-bored immortals
Like a gaol cell wall on which martyrs have scrawled names and droll missives asking rebellion and censure’s erasure
His scored countenance lesion-legioned
Pits where living eyes resident millipedes set forth from
Performing upon me flesh’s final alchemies, singular valency
All mortals forming toward mythic extracts
Toward that crack like a slash along a spine, Christflank scars, yon worldful portal
Life’s ceasing
In that rod a scarlet-sashed peltast casts angrily in battle, steadfast, a creasing
Which over time and by degrees stoops me, walking corner angled
When dead me wheels down pathologistic corridors, coroners waving new fangled tools over my breathless body, bread ready to be leavened
Feeling breath levant-hot, though keel unmoving renders pilot passenger
Preaching time’s lesson litany
When time’s preaching
When overreaching ends,
At Earth’s end, bend of raging river deep in Hindu Kush
Defending to his men glory’s name, their doubt would not stain
All dead blameless, healed of lameness in Hades
Those who stayed behind untamable and hateful
With sin’s weight we cannot hope heaven but try at least
My soul will go like barnacle geese in Sligo out over foam
I would have noisy exodus
Let Mort’s ossuarial hands band mine, palm to bone
At my dying little crying, white dyes mordanted black
Let doleful epicedians be heard from the church, mordent
From sordid cellars soiled, let rats more than harried Hamelin crawl forth
On yon high hillcurve wind-stirred furze shaking like cursed Virgils
Voidal facade of black church, lines of sad faces filing
Through a door divide windriding threnodies, unmelodious urgent dirges
Odious and copious
On the pulpit Procopius’ Secret History, its tongue tastes pages fifty through fifty three, which detail the repeated rape of child whore Theodora.
Leave a comment