Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Where the world wants in

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You Who Do Not Weep

You who do not weep will not know the dawnfallen
sorrow of an extinguished star, the nonet of a nightcrane
grieving in the shore reeds until the dream was forgotten.

You who do not weep will not know Scarlatti played
in stone shadows carved by where the world wants in,
the stillness required for such unseated movement.

You who do not weep will not know the deglaciation
of departing November, autumn extended fully within
the withered flourish of every green thing granted you.

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You who do not weep will not know the ginger owlwalk
that does not flush from the oaktop, that settles a deviled
silhouette to burn steady as rising Sirius on the horizon.

You who do not weep will not know these words,
the music heard by lovers come ungathered in history,
the sweet ruin of time’s inscrutable harlequinade kiss.

You who do not weep will not know the weeps you
might have had in a quiet summer house seasoned by
everything you cannot imagine required for this to be.

Joseph Gallo
November 22, 2014

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