Thomas Lowe Taylor -- ANABASIS LONGS FOR HOME

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Thrust team yips I'd yelled no homer in the mists
of chance left us there on the pealing loam
in host of nothing made no more than sentences are
misfit and strung; held in the leading pool
we dealt in determinate hedgerows, latented-out

Hard upon silence the wailing blood sentenced
you to loneliness under your own hand
asleep in the wool of utter's sailing into
but laid among the rushes in beneath blue
portico, lattice, the event tempo of doubt

Valley to witnessed calm, we chased oranges
out of musk and distances up the road to the water
in the barrel in the loam of summer's own inisists
these at the anchor barn of the sleeping pint
down at the wooden door, down at the song

Hailed as we were in the afterglow of nukes,
the jazz line emptied the heart of its own blue woe
and deleted roses from the vocabulary of chance
noxing patterned monks their usual accords where
homers dusker'd famous interns their butts first

You'd longed too for the clean edge of the willing
the marked flight of blue and green birds again
term of the rotating dome we describe in all our
stories, having seen nothing of love in a thousand
ears and sentiments having been sent to the lords

Maybe you'd said "Down, Fang," to one of the neighbors
again, not once but twice in the face of destiny
and gophers you long to go skiing in rice
pasting soya beaners into the relix and palm
loasting the permit strain into its own fortunes

And you stroke out for home, er foam on her lips
again against your tongue beating a staccato stress
on the button in her jeans, a lap made sinner
a scene made winter in your discontent, unbalanced
and sane on the beast of your own dreams again

Where'd formed some roast internal eyes'd intent
your maiden in repose some leafing scraps they'd farted
thus belittled from myth to carton on the milk, no more
feared than uh made in tents to seem a cartoon instead
but sofa'd into deal remute to beer at the corner

This is where you lost the cause and made another
country your own, made the lasting century into
a fashion and a song, and made chutney into a household
name and season on the calm return, here at the sealing
trim, here at the posting dream, positioned and sent.