Kinsky Villonelle


with kinski’s yowl i shift straight into dogshit ack
i skid& i & he are on another track
i hear louise stand by the stove the day
through face black with smoke and soot
each night she lie in bed of straw
the blood–rage in her belly she be just
poor orphan child would rather be
a tree in summer wind the sun
and smog bear down the master see her at
the stove she well worth ducats for
the night but she her face
is perfumed by her no like roses go
shift up the summerwind there with war
stain in the night the heavens red
and in the slaughter lay the master need
across the fields so many riders blown
as leaves from forgotten years no prayers
so white their hair like snow the summerwind
will come to her from year to yeari swerve
for klaus while in her blood a wild beast screams
but she was just a tree in summerwind
the gears whirr crazy down the hill and bone

Rate this post
Previous articleSound Urn: Sonnet To Orpheus #5
Next articleDürer: Innsbruck 1945


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here