Friday, August 17, 2012

A ghost contacting other ghosts

It too late to be learning
About Wagner's leitmotifs
And shifting tonal centers--
That's for the new world
To discover if it wants.

I am more for you than you
Know. Even the Rilke you read
Can mean the great sun is
A fabulous golden symbol
For what was known, what
Was conquered under the stars.
Sure I spread her thighs in late
Summer and she told me
I made her glad as fall is wet
And ruddy.  The season
Twirling toward us, no reason
Except the animals to go on.

So as a ghost calling you out
From the forlorn burned -out
Center of forgotten Ohio
I hold the censer
I reek of smoke and have tasted
The burnt offerings left by
The former tenants.  There
Against the wall is the lizard
That some poets hated, although
This one is fat, obscene, filled
With god knows what.  A power
Of the everlasting, for which
This ghost, me, is in retreat.
I cannot mention
The desert without

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