Though every stalwart suitor lose his life
Who strives and stoutly strides to win her grace,
Though Atalanta caution 'gainst the strife,
With pride and pleasure I shall run the race,
And seek not for myself the victor's wreath,
So often tempting fool and errant knave
Whose folly sits in risking certain death
Trying to best that which he claims to crave.
My step and pace, instead, I shall adjust
To match the speed that doth my mistress choose,
And ambling slow or sprinting swiftest gust,
Whilst keeping time there is no way to lose -
For prizes worth lie not at journey's end,
But in each moment that with her I spend.

Green fields of yesterday all seemed bereft
Of life and all the pleasures found within,
The petals strewn on frosted ground had left
Each wilted flower sadly bare, but then
Appeared Narcissus' blossom there withal;
Magnificent of efflorescence, she,
Defining grace and wit and beauty, all,
Awakened spring and love's prosperity,
For though desired of countless hapless swain,
Forswearing all, she tenderly bestowed
On me her kiss, the seed of love's terrain;
Day after day I reap that which she sowed.
Inscribe upon my heart this memory:
Love bloomed because the daffodil chose me.

my ship i fashion out at sea,
instead of on the shore,
from flotsam cast off better crafts
of those who sailed before.
no charts have I to map my course,
no sextant and no star
to guide me to I know not where
upon this vast bazaar.
i send aloft my moment sail,
of which i have but one,
and seven winds move me each way
progressing me in none.
though makeshift, this, a worthy raft,
has proven itself thus,
but winds foretell that seas ahead
will prove more arduous.
a constant keel I must acquire,
and rudder must procure,
else surely this contesting storm
my ship will not endure.
so humbly now I row myself
toward some solid ground
to reinforce what hull I have
and make this ship more sound.

I rend myself from patterns so ingrained!
Who rends anymore, ripping self from self?
(something flickers in the corner of my eye)
to hell with form!
to hell with meter!
f*ck decorum! fuck propri*ty!
(too angry, too young, too ineffectual - but oh the rush)
It locks its arms around me tight, the beast!
It wraps me in its warm embrace, such peace!
da dum da dum da dum da dum da dum
Set word and beat and hue and signature
to the purpose
Make wide and strong the structure and the frame
Wherein the thousand sprites of fancy play
Then loosen latch and open door
and fly
and fly
and mend