In Retrospect
O the orange grove in Carolina!
Each orange resembles a shrunken head,
the conquest of the headhunter. The wind
through red cedar plays on the shepherd’s flute,
the shepherd turned into a cross, Christ-borne.
Each orange resembles a shrunken head,
the conquest of the headhunter. The wind
through red cedar plays on the shepherd’s flute,
the shepherd turned into a cross, Christ-borne.
Clouds bring storm from the stone-age — a cave-mob.
A tree at dusk is a crimson dagger.
Dandelions are toothed dwarfs forging God.
The mourning dove monotones the last rites.
Death, redolent with jasmine, sweet pinesap.
A tree at dusk is a crimson dagger.
Dandelions are toothed dwarfs forging God.
The mourning dove monotones the last rites.
Death, redolent with jasmine, sweet pinesap.
O the flag waving like a starry noose!
Calm encumbered with the wrath of Cain’s soil.
The wren, mute, like a stuffed apparition.
The moon is in love-and-silver business.
Cunning merchants sell heaven by the yard.
Calm encumbered with the wrath of Cain’s soil.
The wren, mute, like a stuffed apparition.
The moon is in love-and-silver business.
Cunning merchants sell heaven by the yard.