A little more house cleaning

Victory

What beetle burrowed in the brain
      of our enemy to arouse him to war?
Was it voracious crow-song of famine,
      brutality, or biting lust?
In an instant of perverse clarity,
      he grew suspicious of peace,
To him a wild and violet boar,
      that eats up women first, then men.

Like rows of teeth they snarled at us,
      they stabbed at us with tusks,
but seeing that we were fierce, they turned
      and mangled each other.
And violent craving for desolation
      writhes frustrated in consummation.


Watery Blue Depth

Watery blue depth, the stones welcome you
      to the surface, shield you, crown you with shade.
You climb to the surface all thirstiness,
      your blue eye consuming green, white, blue.
As you gasp your airless gurgle,
      the wind ripples you, and your crown
Becomes a lobe all listening
      for the call of the river.

My sister, come with me to the ocean—
      come with me to the depths of the great sea;
Feel my current swirl you as
      my sunsplash drinks your icewater:
Your cistern cracks,
      you are fed and feed into the river.

Summer of 1995. Poems written while smoking cigars on the back porch of an ex-monastery in Washington, DC.