GREENSTONE

After the myths had fallen,
grain in the mist of fallen men,
we were chaff, thrown off:
exiled from the kingdoms of want.

We desired pain to cease,
organic hunger to rise:
a ruin's purge in the ache
of last night's Apriled dream.

This was the one we lost,
the one we measured
out of bosom's way:

List: day dawns rampant;
sentinels breed the gathered storm,
this font of wayward moss: green
Mary's kiss will wait no longer.

Stone upon fire,
fire upon stone:
the cardinal remembers well:
carrion on the lawn,
the ostensible wish,
the beryl reeling,
this miscreant faith.