ValkyrieThe dress is wearing thin on those young girlsBending in folds far too soonAs with with eager framed eyes,They turnTo the Valkyries in the runwayAnd plead to be takenOn aviatic highs.Flurries of feathersAs with cream-colored skies,They turnTo the mirrored doors in the flowered bedsDeathly mistakenOf bleach-broken dyes.
Self-PortraitI looked at our art from an orbit afarAnd saw vast maps of islands,Some vast archipelagos with many men,Most with little.I saw isolation, but nowhere was it worse than the romantics.The single islands with single inhabitants with single typewriters,Lonely cranes with royal friends.They corked their manuscripts and manifestos in the cliche bottles they're typed with,Sealed a world of heartship into the seaSuch romantics...And to know that the passions and anticsAre what keeps us drawn,Keeps us drawingDespite the islandsWe have wroughtFrom the genesis of thought....Words on whispers in the deadest night"We must make our ships more sound!"More sound! More sound!
I, GenusVitruvius,Your restructured musculatureThe blueprints for man, rewrittenIn the sepia-wash of foliosFound in an lone drawerWho above all thingsSought to set the proper formIn this rhapsodical place before him.
The Dark HorseBlind-led departingDante's stairs hold darkened stepsFluorescent landing!
InamorataInamorata,Bridling incardine steeds,Do not break me so.
Sin ThesisThe true definition of sin is"To forget"It's why we built those little churches in our poetry