LAMENTATIONS

by David Eide

Sweet, the long and measurable moments with the bardic soul and eternal creations that seem to tumble self-made from the mouths of ancient mountains. Bring us wholeness; epherma of night sea journeys bursting on the day until it is a chain of memories telling us sad tales of men mounted on the engines of heaven to find a distant planet where joy is forbidden.

Speak with the amplitude of four hundred revolutions around the same sad planet, the same drowning men, the same howls from the underworld. And yet, to make it new! Speak through the time that enters the bard mind-speak to friends, speak to family- find a place for everything that occurs significant to the core of what is. That one, this one, the other one, the furthest one, the not-one. Speak through them all, through all the nights of despising and calculations laid up in mid-moon on the last days of the year when the mind is ripe, ready to burst, a pod of corn, sweet and discolored by the radiant sun.