New Catkins

So… rain patters as it fallsSo… I can hear my own heartbeatThat was many a midnight's return from dreamssowing long ago the flight contested and judged in that hourthe passage overgrown with rose thornsrosemary wrapping and hiding the heaven-sent omenand so…

All right…and yet…the television is wailingthe past is screamingthe hand of god held out a blessingthe mortals received the scorneverything is still rushing to spread the word

After many years, drawn from the scabbardthe overlapping reflections wear awaybeyond space, death and life give their rewardthe water of the netherworld swaysjoining—