Avoiding the edges of the world
is three-quarters of all precautions.
(It's a saying.)
But it will be noticed that we are endeavoring to move.
A hole fish fire in the darkness must be cut or forty feet.

The oar was away with enameled side up,
forgive me from my dreams,
as being in the house of half-inch slumber,
and the planks are hardly likely to cut our features.
The beam lying about six inches into the fire,
and charged with winter paint, as shown in breathing weather.
Raze the banks of ashes,
led by the hands to the dead in his batteries.

Our ropes were somewhere,
talking torches long between.
A rustic yoke was set up at the head,
and a slot slipped over the aglets;
a washer hemmed across each hand,
with the ends driven into the sink.
A pair of four feet so as to pilfer away the rope,
to ask for a fierce later.
Then in these blocks, blocks were drilled,
which were carried wet through the coast.

He will leather the anticipated logs in Venice,
under the renegade delegates and their whereabouts hereafter,
in Venice of Venetian symbols drowned forthwith.
Not to avail against the top of two boats ahead,
when opposite each other every few minutes,
each time just missing him.

Tomorrow morning, part and deep,
found us on the dark smooth clouds of the gangway.
Then we meet, with listening keel.
There are no voices, but always sound;
the thin leaves cold and whistling ghostily.
Since this is the loudest signal I know,
I will trust you for the calm.

And the islands of the following morning
are just as quiet and far more tedious
than those of the previous night,
caught in a place like this
where the canal retracts from the water,
to say nothing of the futility
of building a chart of bewildering Persephones,
supported on their way homewards heated with stones.

MISTAKES IN THE EVOLUTION OF PEACE

I was a priggish mob of incredulous peoples,
striking the true end of imagination and a city of internationalism.
The cloudless revolution.
Clearing my mind was not agreeing,
for it might have no doubt.

It was a second-rate review of cross-purposes,
and the free scent of memoranda.
It's that sleeve up again.
But I can see that it was an international sleeve.

That the day is done today will make some difference tomorrow
and has ended, or at least he refused to see it decay.

Copyright © Glenn R. Frantz, 2009