I will not bet on many stars
So bright and clear
As my time draws near.
And yet, here I am
Whispering love letters
Into Hermes’ ear
In hopes thy dear maiden
Of knuckled constellations
May show some sign
Of drawing ever nearer.
Tag: hermes
Autumn’s Wick (day 1937)
As Autumn’s candle blows clouds away
Sharpness enters into this day
At the cost of blue one cannot say
The geese should fly today.
But as Hermes doth say,
“Winter, come our way,”
So must we abide by nature’s law.
And here we are amidst the fray
Swirling leaves on an Autumn day,
And frost spreading it’s silver lining
Along the open grass
With little paw prints
Bustling here and there,
To prepare for Winter’s deep lair,
Shelter and warmth bites the air
Though Autumn’s wick doth get shorter.
Hades Reproach (day 1906)
I went to the cliff on a twenty third Thursday
A hole in the sky was my overturned beetle
Who did arise from the galley below
Hades riding high with his ninety nine henchmen
Calling on the world to dispense with all destruction
Guilty was the verdict as the stallion roared
Twisting through thin pines with a mighty shine sweat
Chasing down destroyers of a fruitless life
Standing tall and proud without a clue in Hell
So consumers continued down thinking everlasting well
Little did they know Hermes made his call
Down down down did they all quickly fall
Weighed down with all their spoils rusting inside out
Burning all with fright as they clutched real tight
Olympia laughing now: seven houndred heard well
Deafening screetch of every stallion rider’s call
Thunder in the night as they took their last bite
Thunder in the night as seven houndred took flight
All around screams as seven houndred struck down
Systematic reproach to every vacant soul
As dusk settles in and so the storm it slows
Children survey souls floating all around
Sweep away the dust with a conscious thrust
And with the backs of ninety nine civil men
Everyone is handed two slices of bread
And sweet mother Gaia lets her hair down low.
Stained Messenger (day 1856)
I’m beginning to like the taste of ink on my skin
Bleeding in black
And letters wrinkled symmetrically
With stamps that now stick
To the wings of an unnamed messenger
I have envisioned as Hermes
In a short and stubby auto
With running shoes and arch supports,
And a stripped button up
With wings emblazoned upon the breast-pocket.
Down (day 441)
Down
With the fair winds
Rusty wheels
Craning necks
Wasteland
Crows
Death black trees
Smoking ashes
Hermes knows
Persephone awaits
Glorious Queen
She waits