Sentimental Boys

Ugh! Boys are so sentimen
tal with their badly-hidde
n love of roses and candle
s and firelight and simile
s and I hate it hate their
idealized expectation hat
e the pressure they put on
themselves hate the press
ure they put on me so I ca
nnot laugh cannot laugh at
them because their hearts
are like soggy lukewarm o
atmealy mush too tender to
o weak for confidence and
I disdain them and their r
idiculous need for materia
l toys these candles these
roses are nothing but pro
ps that they need because
they don’t have real feeli
ngs and they want to have
feelings and they lie and
say that they do it for wo
men but I don’t need secre
ts and moonbeams and endea
rments to cover up the fac
t that I have no passion;
lying to ourselves may be
necessary but let’s not wa
ste the money for chocolat
es, shall we?

Haughty, Detached

My shoulders square, back straight,
and I stride through the world,
haughty, detached,
separate from all the other people except that we share the same grass, the same air;
The wind blows in my hair and makes a game of bouncing it,
and my eyes are weary and fond of all they see.
I do not speak aloud;
neither do I eat, except to sustain my body when I feel it grow faint—my head whirls and aches—
because I have no desire to eat, to speak, to sleep or to write;
All I know is warm wind, warm earth, and to avoid disturbances—I mean people—
My mouth has a sweet, tired ache, and my fingers have a sweet, tired ache, and my soul, my soul is weary and fond.
The thousand tunes that I bring forth (with my fife, with my fingers) use up more of my breath than I have to spare
(I faint, but I do not hunger),
and my love is a story,
and my beloved is a character in a story—a Ganymede, a Patroclus—
and since neither of us is real, and since I have no desires,
I obey fondly and wearily the worn path, and I do not stumble; neither do I run,
and I stride through the world, detached.

Sonnet XV

You, white and softened marble of the night,
are in a calming sky of cotton blue:
for what is it we use the firelight?
The only brilliance I require is you.

The stars are not so useful, not so rare,
for you presented first the mirrored glass,
and you continue on whether you care
about us, who have lives as short as grass.

If there is something beautiful and strong,
salvation might be possible for Earth.
Destruction in the fire does you wrong.
Who is it dares to undermine your worth?

Oh, moon of whitest stone in fabric sky,
why must the fire dazzle in my eye?

Rondeau

When learning the songs of ages,
cherish the words,
for they are the heart of chanting,
a century's worth of sages
sighing in herds.
When learning the songs of ages,
cherish the words.
In all of a thousand cages,
millions of birds
in jealousy have been panting.
When learning the songs of ages,
cherish the words,
for they are the heart of chanting.

When singing the ancient phrases,
worship each note,
for not even one is static,
and strains from our younger phases
weary the throat.
When singing the ancient phrases,
worship each note.
Complexity fashions mazes;
we learn by rote--
for us, it is automatic.
When singing the ancient phrases,
worship each note,
for not even one is static.

When strains are to be harmonic,
cling to the chord,
for it is the first that sounded.
The purest and simplest tonic
lives while unscored.
When strains are to be harmonic,
cling to the chord.
We know it is embryonic,
and it is stored
inside, where the soul is bounded.
When strains are to be harmonic,
cling to the chord,
for it is the first that sounded.

Crowds

It's so sticky and dull,
and I watch the others
as they talk,
play,
do,
and I think,
now that all is ready
and everyone else
is enjoying himself,
what is there left
for me to do?
I love to prepare,
but as usual,
the event itself leaves me
feeling nothing.
At least--
I hope--
all those other people who seem so happy
really are.

Villanelle: Prince lointain

You are the apex of my sky,
although you are too far to reach.
So, Prince lointain, I say goodbye.

Could I but hear and never spy,
then would I love you based on speech.
You are the apex of my sky.

Defending you, I know thereby
I rectify the lies they teach,
so, Prince lointain, I say goodbye.

My actions are made to comply
with my desire to please with each.
You are the apex of my sky.

Yes, you are better far than I
at following the rules we preach,
so, Prince lointain, I say goodbye.

Because it would be wrong to try
the man I marry, blush, and bleach—
you are the apex of my sky—
so, Prince lointain, I say goodbye.

Trickling

I love deeply; I love long. My
heart wells over for the flowers,
for the moon, and for the grass, and

for the mountains I have only
seen in pictures. This sensation
is of melting ice and trickling

water to my toes. It’s softness,
gentleness, protectiveness, and
I can feel it for the laughing

children with the soft, blond hair whom
I have never met. I feel it
for the tired-looking workers

in the stores and on the sidewalks,
for the disappointed teenaged
boys, and sheltered, wide-eyed girls who

look surprised. And I know music!
I touch books! I smell the earth! I
keep the places of my childhood!

And I want to be in love; I
hear the greatest principles of
chivalry, and with my tongue, I

give the ancient spoken words.
I touch God, and from the deepness
of myself, I heal all people.

Why, then, when I think of all the
individuals I know so
well, can I not feel a hint of love?