Einmal Ist Keinmal

I

Lemon’s bitter

Bud-thrashing’s praxis –

Its morning kiss

In curd’s pure theory,

Enchantment –

Unfindable but imaginable

Plane-stuff –

Wood to thump for 

Death-stuff.

II

Let me shake the weight of manners

As I crawl –

A one-dog pageant, 

Or

The stunted in dressage –

But not all of me, them, my miasma –

You’ll know me from above,

As you always have,

By my mannerisms and

Marsh gas.

III

Peace be to the Riparian gods –

Those onyx-eyed

With wings of smoke –

Watch me,

Over me,

As I paw at the roots

Under the moon-roof, in the carr,

To be let out.

IV

You float as Golden Sultan here;

I arrive as green sultana.

Piano’s multiplanar –

And Music, many-universal –

It plays, of course, 

Of pleasure,

And brings back old effulgence – 

The trill of us, once more,

Absolvent.