The Collected Poetry

Land of Sorrow & April Song

Land of Sorrow

Where does the light go when you put it out?

In a sense I guess I'm paler,

A little colder, a little wiser.

In a sense these days get longer,

Night escapes, often enough.

Not sad, It's how it goes.

I suppose I feel through something,

You can make me act.

A lonely searcher in a cave,

Not sad, but I've been staring at a wall.

I've never been

To the Sahara.

Though I hear it takes your breath away.

Seems the perfect place, majestic.

Maybe I'd see all as it really is.

Not sad, just a little confused.

Have we set ourselves up well?

Let's review the past-

Bad men, good men, me.

Not sad, just a little unprepared.

Damp spirits try to ignite again,

And taking over sidewise,

We all think the same things.

Black smoke arises, I don't.

And whoever crowns himself,

Well, I'll be first in line.

Give me a queue and I'll come running.

When I wake up I think I'll know.

Not sad, just worn through.

Let's not talk of death.

Last time was bad enough.

Are you drinking, friend?

I thought I saw-

I guess I wouldn't really know.

I didn't mean to imply anything,

I rarely do.

Not sad, not really.

April Song

Dear friend, have you ever woken up, and it was April?

Gloria ecstasia!

The green meadows ring out with mirth!

      Winter's found Spring again.

You would not find it otherwise,

Rarely understand.

My soul rings out in laughter.

      Winter's found Spring again!

By day harbor,

By night field.

By day sight,

By night stealth.

By day blue,

By night silver.

By day ground,

And ever after Ether.

      Winter's found Spring again!

April is a spotlight.

With a flood on me.

A shot of adrenaline,

The instincts are filled.

The rest, is up to you.

The lark in no captivity has no tune but this:

As he waits beneath a leafy bough.

To his own improvised tune,

the equal of any written composer,

sighing away,

The green-woods ring:

      Winter's found Spring again!

That guarded we look not far.

The length of a chain is not the length of sight.

And always taken by surprise,

Just so in March.

And even under sea,

They praise the overturning.

So doting father time does often lose,

but never mind.

For Winter's found Spring again,

And that's cause enough to rejoice, my friend.