Glee

A wanderer in a desert
robed and sword
hanging from his belt,
hooded and scarved.
They walk along and she
says she is a storm.
He pulls aside the cloth of
his robe to show the screaming
lightning and rain, shot like bullets
by the wind, that swirls within him.
His teeth grin
since that is the god that watches him
from the looming body.
His god has four faces.
His god is named Rampancy.
Its faces are named
Rage, Sorrow, Jealousy, Euphoria.

They listen to a bard in an oasis
tavern, his god turns to hear the bard
better and a new face looks down.
Whispering to each other,
he hears the surf
of sorrow crashing against
his heartbeats. He will share the bard's
fate some day, a secret
he keeps folded on a paper
near his chest. He does
not reveal it often.
She whispers to him but
he is silent.

In the desert, the sun turns about
the earth and the god turns its head again.
He throws his head and laughs his saber out,
slashing poetry into the sands, and she
joins him with a rapier whisking rhythms
from the dust flying in the air.

She whispers to him
and his words are not an answer
since a different face heard and a different face spoke.
In the valley of the heroes
he screams against the statues of great men
lining the walls of cliffs,
cutting gashes into his flesh with the sword.

He walks, dragging his robe and sword
through sand, his god sleeps, eight eyes
closing, head atop a looming body, lolling.
In the twilight colors comes an imp,
an elf, a sprite, a giggler, a not-a-god,
a child of Rampancy.
Small and smiling it skips nearby
on cool rocks with moss,
panning pipes.
He dances, laughing high
and lightly as he throws off robe and sword
and hops.
His robes gone, it can be seen
within him is a storm of spring blossoms
and autumn leaves. He spins and kicks,
his eyes are closed, his grin brighter
than the daylight sun.
She whispers to him and he can only respond
by joying a smile at her
their footsteps running into future forests,
lost and wine sodden.

The Happy Lords: #58-64

Meander

"Hugo, my poet and fool,
tell me what message you spy,
you've sat long enough on that stool
beneath the tower so high."

"Then my lord I tell you of hair,
it falls from high up above."

"Is it hair then, or her, that your stare
has caught like a hawk caught a dove."

"A fool I assuredly am,
but cannot be fooled by my eyes,
it's her as surely it's ham,
this stuff that falls from the skies."

"Well shout to the top of the tower,
we search for a Hero, by name,"

"I hate to cause such a row, sir,
is it for hero, or Hero, or Hiro, we came?"

"My fool, do not fool with phonetics,
they sound all identical, spoken,
(oh look, a book on genetics,)
now, smooth out your communiqué, broken."

"A hero 'tis valiant and brave
who rescues princesses and pets.
Hero hid in a tower-like cave
whom with Leander did have her some sex.
And Hiro is a time traveling fellow,
from Heroes a show that runs on TV,
he's asian and therefore quite yellow,
go watch it on tonight's NBC."

"Desist with this nonsense you yammering poet,
you know which is the one that I seek,
if you've skill then this is the moment to show it,
raise your voice and to the tower now speak."

"I would, lord, but now I hear from the top
the name Tadzio coming right down."

"That sounds like a name to be said by a mop,
but what could it mean and how?"

"Wikipedia, not I, lord, would know,
perhaps you should ask there."

"Encyclo-democrato, what can you show,
the mystery I cannot today bear."

"Tis I wikipedia! for whom many are smitten,
I base this entry on a book that was written,
and after brief deliberation my study's completed,
Tadzio represents perverse sexual obsession, citation needed."

"What a strange conclusion
to draw from that name."

"That digital book's in delusion,
I do not conclude the same.
But, oh! how to continue
when petals and leaves tumble down!"

"My poet, is this the right venue?
Am I overdressed in my gown?"

"My lord, I know not,
if this tower be right,
I threw in with your lot
because I was drunk that one night."

"Perhaps this place is for us
perhaps it is not."

"Perhaps we should just,
slow down or stop.
Whatever you yearn,
enough for now."

"Poet and fool, I concur,
whatever the case, enough for now."