Les Rêves Canadiens

                      DISCIPLE 

                  Fade on rheostat
                  slip through the aisles
                  dark alleys and corners of night.
                  Squirrel up spires whose minatory turrets
                  stand resolute to an unwavering lord.
                  A higher critic is void
                  of pillboxes and crowns
                  and hides none
                  in divers or tepid hollows.
                  Neither fates - who poisoned the blood ?
                  Destiny is soft tongues !
                  And soft tongues have kissed your praise
                  with ignominious lips.

                  Rise Chela !
                  Shoulder buttressed to mine
                  edify your soul and walk
                  through the cutting obscurities of mind,
                  through temporal worlds
                  sized by indeterminate wills,
                  through distant live's whose sacrosanct
                  undresses in a nightmare.
                  I bind you to a likeness
                  that bends in insular aftermath
                  of placenta's soft laws.
                  Then tether you back to a capitulation
                  that would set null an existence
                  to harm your own.

                  Rise Chela !
                  My peroration comes through dark waters
                  to arrantly rich climes
                  but shores you,
                  proselyte on bended knee,
                  anon.

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