logochrysalis web site


where pines do corruscate the passing airs and sing the cormorants
pure as cerise pink whose wailings filter them with heady musk
an islands pleasure far out beyond the hounds of men
hares around its mounds lay enfolded in a distant dawn that herald Usha
exotic fruits and rainbows tongues to ply and play around its caves
within its husk of beauty

the trickle of small watered brooks on whose banks the ancient beaver play
has left its hoard of shells wherein the oyster once had puffed its gills in pleasure
among rocks offending pools or chasms in the cloven wooded slopes
where acidic stork now long dead was never born to bear its child
exempt the child of joy

on some far het-trodden isle where cerulean hues of men see divers pant hazy
the zephyr myth has carried like an odour but corrupted by the western wind
on the mound of dung connundrum calls : is its size or the loudness of its crowing
of matriarchal facet where opines do not corruscate and why do men think
oars will row them to that isle culled paradise that need no chickens
or ass the burden of the brutal farm