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Say Goodbye, Catullus.

      “Job Misquoted”

I know a myst'ry worth a few of those:
   clog stronger than the pipe.
And what after all is this thing of having hope
or losing it, as if hope were the only prize?

Is it for hope i’ve made the Maze my bourn;
hope, that i devise small hours to graithe?
Then once—its spreading rings,–shall gravity smoothe
& not a molecule abide as cairn.

There must be reason in the mere parabola:
sometimes i say it’s joy, sometimes beyond,
a building, where i cannot understand
except as limned by glyph & scribble-qabbalah.

Myst'ry, not that i bear nothing’s burden—
but myst'ry ineffable:–claiming nothing’s guerdon.

Rionnard.

Most poetry chapbooks are like one course of tapas. At the time you think, “This is really sort of interesting,” but afterwards you wish you’d gotten more for your money.

Completion: Fragments.