| Daybreak broke Magic-wand rays Unto the river In the arms of Morpheus Fair Spring did quiver Beyond the light of a thousand June's Beneath the pale'ings of Maiden Moon He sprung unto me The most fertile a quandary With a boy of nineteen On that rock In the stream Silver streams Milky dreams Betwixt the waters of Love's first-born Which carried Saint Matthew away One dank, Easter morn And sure as the fisherman To the ebb, did wither So, his creamy sveltness Did beckon me hither Alas, our bodies Did fit so fine Beneath the matrix Of his balmy flesh Which I took into mine And died nine deaths On an empty Boulder gallery I now call Art But write we both better With a broken heart 'Twas there We took to sealing Our cryptic fate Awaken me not For here There is no hate Here Where rapids, eternal Against the rock Break West For rapids are nocturnal And know no rest Here Where Saint Matthew With infinite slumber, Is doubly blessed. For slumbers are eternal And know no death. |
| Rock Dreams ~for Saint Matthew of Sherman |