3.
Past the End Times
Love is a decision in the afternoon.
Gold flowers sunk in the arpeggiated lake,
sinking upward as the music melodies.
Sing the verbs down the line,
the soft falling-away of petals, the radiance
primeval in the mortal heaps, speaking
in mortal heaps bright-dead vocables
with bright-dead tongues worthless words
continuing the love decided on in dark days.
S.T. Brant
Tags:
Poetry