If only through Words,

If only through Words,

I could speak, straight and unfurled

without borrowed Gospels' cloud,

and each accented meaning

betrays myself to cloudless Truth,

from inside and out

oft the Poet is disgusted with

by the Wine and Grain him within

gracing him with spoilt breath

inside benediction; out seasonal mountain-fart

if only my words clouds could reach,

without a tyrant's rage,

like zephyrs of a vernal dawn

birthed itself above subterrain winter

and to the lidless space farther,

...(farther than chartless seas of black stars)

it would have thus gone

along with Summer's chill air

that doomed and stagnated here