The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

July 23, 2017

optical casement

i would, if i could take account
the minstrel's call; then i might dismount,
dispute, despair, in misery and storm
that none but those unmasked might come to any harm.
and if unmade, then maids and jesters both
might come to aid of optics and their growth
against whatever seas pushed back against the main
that tides withdrew from shores, and drew then back again.
the bow rides high the bridge, none go beneath
or port the wherries swift across the heath;
the strings guide visitors about the wall
where sights of sound abide within the hall.
still, portents fill the sky with grief and hope,
and languor moves the barrel of the scope.

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