It Seems So Long Since An Old Partisan Called Me Nancy

I was cautioned to rise up by the guards,

So I took my gun and vanished across the water.

They said, “The shade is wont to be baneful to singers

Who smoke cigarettes as they sing of the slaughter.”

All I can say to you, Marianne,

Is the shade cast by the juniper is baneful

And your body is open like a prayer

And the nightingale is tuneful.

They are harvesting in darkness

The wheat that was drowned by the blood of poets.

Now let us kneel together naked while the Evening Star is rising,

So go now, go, my she-goats. Go now, go, my she-goats.

To A Loved One Abused Electronically By Strangers

The tedium is our shared and constant solace

(Your page is not a fine or private place), 

My memories are a failure to forget;

I never tire of looking at your face.

 

You fear the sneering cruelty of trolls  

Who fear the sneering cruelty of the sun.

We all confound the tedium for the message

(Visitors to my website: 41).

 

The interface is a distorting lens

(When you mean confound, you say confess);

My fury is imperfectly conveyed—   

We’re all alone: the medium is a mess.