The Adjourning of Sara’s Beauty, In Thickets Far and High

Beauty, Beauty,
Cradled far in thin memory;
And I could talk and labour in His hours,
Pay perchance to cross upon your eyes again;

But Never, Never,
The tender caress of your ambrosial form;
To trolley with the mind’s wishful finger
Down the champagne landscape of your shine,
Smooth as silk, yet now a vagary
Lost behind a black wall.

In thickets far and high,
I search for meaning in the breezes;
To Yearn, to Yearn,
To command the walls and aisles
And find your blessed room;

But Never, Never,
I lay upon a hill of thorns,
A friend of rats under a dying sun.

Beauty, Beauty,
There she sparkles on the heaven’s dark terrace;
And Pray, Pray,
Through beating lungs and the power of the stars
Do guide her towards my disheveled lot;

But Never, Never,
There are no stars in this broken land,
As the dim combustibles rage before my sight;
The frantic kingdom of transcending monkeys
Flutter about and bar the Vision from my eyes;

Only to end as foam,
Meander, meander in man’s stagnant canal.



I should adjourn with Sara’s Beauty;
But let me out with green visions,
Let me witness the ravens fly in red clouds of thunder;

But Never, Never,
Never to taste her agile sight;
I see chaos and the apes
Melt to monsters in Beauty’s seeming shadow;
Let me first abolish pride,
Let me walk without noises and hear the Voice,
And never fear, nor twirk,
The vibrant urchins of my mind.

Beauty, Beauty,
Let the earth revolve around my star,
Thicken terror and darkness in its’ shadow;
Let me bore my head in thorns,
Let me drag the deadwood beam through the pagan streets
Up to the Hill of Skulls and worldly death;

But Never, Never,
To trust through touch the Unseen Light;
Let me roll within her partial grasp,
Guess and guess
Until the maggots build their house
Within these shivering sapien walls.

And let me lie in darkness amid the cricket throngs;
Love does bind the socket and the stick,
Blasts forth sweet waters through the vine and vein;

But Never, Never,
The baby shrieks, wound in soup and tissue;
Let me weep for ages ‘til my purpose wrought;

In thickets far and high,
Beauty, Beauty holds me close together,
And darkly plies me far apart.