THE MENTAL ORNA

An ornamental flower
in a gentle fleecy field wobbles to
each & to every breeze that passes

--They all, they each
wish to steal her ivory & scarlet
fleece? (whatever that is) they
each (they all) go & blow th'beauteous

grass & gathering Woe?
up to th'whistling & topsy-turvy
Sky billowing forth th'wavery
willow of her eye waltzing
around th'tamarind trees?

arousing th'long grain-waves hopeless
to pain or ecstasy? ... amassing
moving moments of her every hour... but

O that flower (being so ornamental)
does not pull root at th'slightest
stimulus--although she dances

Th'World's sweet glances with every
sour gale? that chances by

The While enduring & pouring,
pouring a thin, pale, forged fragrance
to Th'Red Sky alive with deadness
& deadened to Th'Spreading lies

--She does not hear (nor can she
... thus does not fear) or ever
listening across Th'Years, O
to Th'Breezes which, always--Will she?

wizen to those grey promises they cannot keep
(nor ever, but) only weeps... rolls, Pastless waves,
sways, plays with the serious?

All (of those winds of Life's endless swaying
where they're decaying) 'round to a sleep
of Th'Always: th'scavenger/th'Ravage so
savage... She sways, sways, sways

before us (fighting th'sleep of Day)
--although elsewhere does her... being
stay as if she weren't away: her spirit

drifting through timeless ways of decay
(like bouquets, ancient, not drowning,
drowning, but mutely treading

Th'Death she's wearing) across
th'yellowing rays of Yesterdays (that
never stay but merely (woven around
us) where... they're headed) & sways &

sways & sways & fades away
--they fading because
she was never
their prey is th'Moving's
stay.