Exit Euphoria

Exeunt, by themes of lasting

must I remain

so? Those thrush, that brook,

do not perceive this agony

as I lay splayed over huge tablets

toppled, fallen for hammocks, great

monoliths to conceal the sun a bedrest

I pretend the day will burn

so always surefooted, steady-stern,

remarkably awake to pretty things

but flayed, the flesh then spilt

in hymns and psalms and praise

of all that I’ve not bested, having bested me, late

to my victory, verily,

across cold dunes and searing, snowflake’d grass

crisped and killed so. I shall leave thee, O

signposts, whispers, displaced dirt, the mock-up,

tenacious press onward, on to the farther place, Ho…