#scripsissi

[elucubrare]

Does Not a Summer Make

It is hard to remember summer now. Winter has settled in with permanence, falling along with the snow, covering everything. You must look at the sun and think that soon it will not be what it is, that faint suspicion, that dim disc seen through a haze, like a lightbulb behind a curtain. When does summer come? is it in May, when the swallows return, when days grow long? or when the sun first blazes out in July? Days are added on days and the summer comes when it will. Through long nights and unseen days we keep summer lit in our minds like a candle beside the bed. It is no wonder we jump at the first sign of summer. After all, what makes summer? I would say it is nothing more or less than a single swallow, returning from the deserts, trailing liquid song.

01.31.2015

[elucubrare]

plz note date

[elucubrare]

more odysseus poems 

(2013?)

[elucubrare]

Prometheus 

The first time I died I consoled myself with my usefulness. I decided to ignore the gnawing of the birds, like hunger, in my stomach.

I lay splayed on the roof of the world.

But again I died, and again, and death brought no release and routine no respite.

I lay entombed beneath the arching sky.  

I was forgotten by those men I died again and again to save.   I tried to forget, but memory is long. I did not try to fight.  I know uselessness.

I lay open to the fires of heaven.

I died yesterday and rose this morning with the sun.

[elucubrare]

hey this is from like 2006, also they're lesbians, duh

A. Come, the day adorns with lovely light  The skies; come sing with me her praises -  Lovely Eos, who her proud head raises And makes the tired darkness bright.  B. Come with me and let us try the dark's delight Come into the forest, beneath the tall trees Into the Huntress' arms, she who sees  All, and makes all fair with her sight.  A. The breezes fly from the mountain peaks Blowing the scent of the waters on the air. Come scale the cliff-walls, if you dare;  Hide not in darkness all these weeks. B. The darkness sings the songs of dying day And will endure when light is dead; She will endure when the sun has fled. Put your foolish love of light away. A. Let us then together in the half-lights stay In purple lowering twilight, or before the dawn In the cool time before that peace is gone We will linger, and live together in the gray. 

[elucubrare]

At Aulis

The fleet waits, windlocked, panting under a still sky, sails slack and oars folded in like wingless birds on the sea’s back. The world is painted flat, is still – what wind could ever blow on such calm seas?

Troy lies there, a distant bustle of men who speak a thousand tongues, whose ships cross the fruitless sea each day; across wind and water and time stand Hector and all his kin and combats that will not be joined.

In this weak throat are all the winds confined and as the glittering bronze is drawn across the slim windpipe bright red and fluid, the winds gush out.