November

arise once more
enriched with the spoils
by a hundred brazen knots
so saying
hallooing perhaps agleam
with the colour of roses
where once had been huts
all made of bronze
--'twas a wonder to see--
build it anew
unwearying song that none
durst enter a ball
at their feet Apollo
had offered a gift he chose

October

sweat is streaming everywhere
he is panting
whose fame is now in darkness
they glitter
do not entrust your verses to the leaves
you are that Maximus the only man who
soothed the air with song
winds will take and scatter all of these
as a purple flower or poppies
erase you from the memory of time
mad poor fool
unlock the Alps
and singing still made for the stars
not mere rumor but a messenger more certain

September

the sweat ran down in streams rivering down
he seemed to pant he's breathless
whose names are in the dark lost in the dark depths
all shining glittering
commit no verses to the leaves
Maximus you are the only soul who
charmed the air with jargoning
these the winds of heaven scattered every one
as a bright flower as a crimson flower
take you out of the record of remembering time
he lost his head the idiot
the Alps laid open wide
left the earth and chanting sought the stars
indecent birds obscene birds

August

she kept her armor world
a world of tears suppliants
grieving palms beating
breasts breathe
marjoram breathe embrace
dissolving into empty air
still dragging out my life leaves
the slightest breath of air will
scatter visitors unlock her lips
and sing my one lapse
a hundred altars riots of
flowers set ablaze wild as
a top a hundred brazen
bolts and iron strong forever

July

for so vast a frame
the thin remains of ruin'd Troy
they march obscure in
order painted on the wall
curious work all
parts resound with tumults
indigested foam and morsels raw
the mounds the works the walls
for ornament besmear'd
with filth and holy gore
poets worthy their inspiring god
open all the furies of her face
the clowns a num'rous rout
but all of naked men

June

few in number but each was a war-man
famous for trumpet and spear
loaded with gorgon poison
his senate men of meager substance all
a race of men born from the trunks of oak trees
and there were the gauls
and there were the tufted caps and the shields
the poor fool
his beautiful head bare and like a jewel
frothed and muttered
now with prayers and now with bitter jibes
it is no new thing
the wounded wild goats eat it
aloof aloft alone

May

aloft with their wings whooping
--a miraculous thing--
we saw them
one only shall you miss one shall be lost
where only wild things lurk they go
the birdless place
sound and resound
yelling out remarks--some proper some not to record
not as a rumour but through an official message
my own lost comrades changed into birds
were hotly debating these controversial issues
a bouquet of white lilies blended with as many red roses
weaving a skein of flight in the fine big halls
off she flew

April

arrive and cut Libya's thread
(it's a marvelous story)
but she never bothers to catch to replace or assemble the verses
bastions started no longer rise
here is the beast's house an intricate puzzle defying solution
belief in the story died long ago though it lives on in rumour as folklore
a mixture of words worth reporting words worth nothing at all
his songs were always of horses
a knot to frustrate any blade
a work of quite monstrous weight stamped heavy with crime
whose shimmering lustre lingers
while they continued contentious internal debates on disputed issues
he no longer dreams of Achilles' fine horses
far removed from the halls of the mighty

Epigraph

si quid mea carmina possunt