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