The Triolet Trail

Toward winter's rest beneath the snow,
and soon you'll go to glory!
You haven't very far to go
toward winter's rest beneath the snow.
But as your frantic efforts grow,
the falcon eyes its quarry--
toward winter's rest, beneath the snow
and soon, you'll go to glory.

and soon you'll go to glory.
the sweet sacrament of you
blesses us, each small story -
and soon you'll go to glory:

you, the memento mori
of us all. common, and true,
and soon you'll go, to glory
the sweet sacrament of you.

The sweet sacrament of you
lies before me as a flower
although stiff as dried bamboo—
the sweet sacrament. Of you,
wiping off the morning dew
and eschewing a taste so sour
(the sweet sacrament?). Of you,
lies! Be for me as a flower.

You pick'em, L2 or L8.

well, it's something

lies before me. as a flower,
gentle dismembered talisman,
decodes (loves, or loves not?) all our
lies. before me, as a flower

cradles, bends and spills one shower
raindrop, dew-bent. this all is, then,
lies. before me as a flower.
gentle dismembered talisman.

Gentle dismembered talisman,
each piece scattered across the globe
calls to your arms: "Come home." You ran,
gentle dismembered talisman,
before mending even began.
Fingers pick the fabric to probe,
gentle, dismembered talisman.
Each piece scattered across the globe.

Each piece scattered across the globe
hidden in museum, school, church,
made by a meek computerphobe.
Each piece scattered across the globe
sending blarts, blips, bleeps, blorts to Job
on an irreproachable search.
Each piece scattered across the globe
hidden in museum, school, church.

Hidden in museum school, church
outcast; phoenix smoldering; paints
art. Memories of souls to search,
hidden in museum school. Church
birds stare, molting upon the perch,
careful not to unleash restraints.
Hidden in museum school: church
outcast, phoenix, smoldering paints.

outcast phoenix, smoldering, paints
arpeggios of sparks, and raindrops
splash on your lips as pale complaints.
outcast phoenix, smoldering, paints.

phosphoric eyes flash as it feints
among dull-faceted outcrops.
outcast phoenix, smoldering, paints
arpeggios of sparks and raindrops.

Arpeggios of sparks and raindrops
latch to heights and far-reaching fires;
when the dust settles in these bookshops
(arpeggios of sparks and raindrops),
and your name screams over the rooftops -
ripped from me, my love - heavenly choirs,
arpeggios of sparks and raindrops,
latch to heights and far-reaching fires.

latch to heights and far-reaching fires
from volcanos and mute lamp-posts
to your dog-muddied child-past. wires
latch to heights, and far-reaching fires

carry its current-cracks to spires
dotting the town. beneath them, ghosts
latch to heights and far-reaching fires
from volcanos and mute lamp-posts.

From volcanos and mute lamp-post,
the sign's clearly for all who see:
"Come to our holiday pig roast"~
from Volcanos and Mute. Lamp-post
climbing to escape your new host?
You're better off hiding in trees
from volcanos and mute lamp. Post
the signs clearly for all who see.

the signs clearly, for all who see
the irony in a desert buoy,
point just where you'd want not to be.
the signs, clearly for all who see

peril in calm finality,
hold no good news. strangers, destroy
the signs, clearly! for all who see
the irony in a desert buoy!

the irony in a desert buoy,
fresh young flowers laid on a grave.
perfume, night-silence, corduroy,
the irony, in a desert buoy.

the cab stops. "Fourth and Illinois."
she steps out; he neglects to wave.
the irony in a desert buoy,
fresh young flowers laid on a grave.

Fresh young flowers laid on a grave
grow edgy and restless at night.
They rise and dance, never behave—
fresh young flowers. Laid on a grave,
a spirit beckons once and waves
to fairies who come bearing bright,
fresh young flowers. Laid on a grave?
Grow edgy and restless at night.

Grow edgy and restless at night
as dreams exhume your past. You'll see
misdeeds cling like ivy. New heights
grow edgy and, restless at night,
topple from the weight of what's right.
Build each story with a new tree.
Grow edgy and restless. At night,
as dreams exhume your past, you'll see.

As dreams exhume your past, you'll see
how you became this other you,
so far from what they hoped you'd be.
As dreams exhume your past, you'll see
the choices made when you were free
to set the way. You'll find a clue,
as dreams exhume your past— you'll see
how you became this other you.

How you became this other you:
another hue stood strong. For once
your shades did not cower or moo,
"How you?" Became this other you
through thoughtful diligence and due—
played to another audience.
How you became this other you?
another hue stood strong for once.

Another hue stood strong for once.
Out of the blue, aquamarine
saw tides from the hooded, gray bunch.
Another hue stood. Strong for once,
she sidled by yellow at lunch.
Sure of her cue, no longer green,
another hue stood strong. For once,
out of the blue, aquamarine.

out of the blue, aquamarine
tears and blood-drops fall like slow pearls
pulsed from an agony machine
out of the blue. aquamarine

dots. and dashes- what do they mean?
the cipher surfaces, then curls
out of the blue aquamarine.
tears and blood-drops fall like slow pearls.

tears and blood-drops fall like slow pearls
in the freezing arctic terrain
where silence stealthily unfurls
tears and blood-drops fall like slow pearls
while powdered snow in patterned swirls
devours the proof of so much pain
tears and blood-drops fall like slow pearls
in the freezing arctic terrain

In the freezing arctic terrain,
yellow poppies reach for the sun.
A reticent hand spills champagne
in the freezing arctic terrain.
Work and weather disposed his claim,
along with the help of a gun.
In the freezing arctic terrain,
yellow poppies reach for the sun.

Yellow poppies reach for the sun
the moon, and the stars to fulfill
hopes, dreams, and quiet yarns unspun.
Yellow poppies reach for the sun
until soft petals come undone
into a sleepless slumber mill.
Yellow poppies reach for the sun,
the moon, and the stars to fulfill.

The moon and the stars, to fulfill
their far out, cosmic destiny,
spin. Revolutions will instill
the moon and the stars. To fulfill
the turns, specks right here on earth thrill
that it takes, incidentally,
the moon and the stars to fulfill
their far out, cosmic destiny,

there, far out, cosmic: destiny,
patient as a godless heaven
and what its silence says to me.
their far-out, cosmic destiny

is not some flaccid ecstacy,
but Someday: bright, lean, unshaven...
their far-out cosmic destiny,
patient as a godless heaven.

Patient as a godless heaven
quenches thunder, cloud-crossed heart-throbs
cease to reign-in love's acumen;
patient as the godless heave in

lusty storms they still believe in,
true friends abide the tears and sobs
patiently - a godless heaven
quenches thundercloud-crossed heart-throbs



I thought poet's line was too beautiful to let alone!