The blind old man
Syphilitic in his rage
Still summons forth
Luscious memories
Pantheistic bursts
(Darkly wan and febrile).
The crippled body
Weighted like the lead of bad ideas
Still navigates the underlying pulse
Of the natural world:
(Evanescence)
Sad beauty and balanced regret
Haunts his fate.
Those beautiful eyes
Invocations to desire
No longer fracture
The light of summer
But the deep wells of madness
Where one last song is chanted
For summer and all its dreams.
(Recollection becomes tranquillity).
Gar Jones: May 2012/November 2016