Siren Song

November 16, 2017

Come, let us go now, to a place beyond dreams.

Let us arise and go now

through the fond, murmuring streets

through the blind, stuttering boulevards

where siren song stills the air

where the minute’s wheels wend their way

to that elusive rapturous bliss.


Let us rush now, you and I,

like the honeybee to its hive

to the merry, manic marmalade malls

to the towering halls of swithering tongues

to the glittering temples that mesmerize all:

where those who seek know not what they crave,

yet surrender to pipe and drum and sweet serenade.


There we shall find short solace.

There, castoffs to shores of grief and joy,

like ghosts, like waves dashed upon rock,

we’ll drift past glimmering galleons

covet the treasures of shipwrecked men

grope for beads, for baubles and gems

while all the while we sink and  swim,

swim and sink and the siren song

sweetly scuttles our unsolaced souls.


Come quickly now, rise up,

submit at once to this hasty urge:

not greed nor grail shall accept one dram
nor glass render reason

nor brass surrender the season we cannot escape.


Let gold and silver release their grasp,

and jewels their hapless, jaded clasp,

yet snow shall not discharge these couriers

nor rain postpone the swift completion

of our most sacred rounds.


Hurry now:

let desire trumpet the way.

Let us in full fanfare not delay.

Let serendipity draw us fast

from these transient, abandoned alleys

to the splendid golden valleys

where tree and grass defy the sky,

where silken flowers in concrete lie.


Let neither spouse nor child obstruct the way.

The time has come to submit and pay.


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