Lear of Whylah Falls

Muscular, maddened, and wrecking cornstalks,
Our Lear totters, interrogates the crows,
Keels, and rags his majesty on brambles.
Felled, green maple leaves tangle in his hair.
Imbalanced by illicit, bitter ale,
He vows he'll slog to the cold Atlantic
To sound the wrinkling and remorseless deep
That shut over the head of Lycidas,
To aquarium his queer brain in brine
Under the tumult and racket of gulls.
Let Othello sleep now. O, lay him down,
Oceaned in silk sheets and flannel blankets,
Quilts of floribunda (a glimpse of death --
The poor sadness of pine which encloses).
Twine our fallen monarch a crown of vines
And roses (he will be beautiful in death),
And wind beside the Sixhiboux and perch
On rocks and mourn for all humanity.

~~~~~

This is the last one I'm sharing from Whylah Falls. It wasn't easy to find four that worked as stand-alone pieces instead of part of the narrative, but I hope I managed to find a few that piqued your curiousity a little. It is truly a beautiful book.

Posted by Andrea at February 24, 2006 7:58 AM under Friday Poetry Blogging

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