schwerner- bacchae sonnet number two
they don’t let go, the ripe stew of August
cools away from your bear’s sleep, you will fall
into frost soon and you will find the means to struggle but the Furies wait cramped
in you icy liver in pain, in disgust. whose
incompletion is it, is it true the will can only wait like the womb? you would be glad
to surrender, do you remember how in a diamond
emptiness of harvest you became corn? it is unbidden.
the vicious green sperm vibrates
the understory oak seedlings. assault. but is it
your balls manifest in the shuddering trees?
there’s this microsecond to invite the enemy in,
you would be saved, be the thinkingless inviter
your intestines be the vines, no noon no time
cools away from your bear’s sleep, you will fall
into frost soon and you will find the means to struggle but the Furies wait cramped
in you icy liver in pain, in disgust. whose
incompletion is it, is it true the will can only wait like the womb? you would be glad
to surrender, do you remember how in a diamond
emptiness of harvest you became corn? it is unbidden.
the vicious green sperm vibrates
the understory oak seedlings. assault. but is it
your balls manifest in the shuddering trees?
there’s this microsecond to invite the enemy in,
you would be saved, be the thinkingless inviter
your intestines be the vines, no noon no time