Status Updates From The Collected Poems of Dyla...

Purpose is gone;
I tried to hold, but can’t,
Compress, inflate, grow old,
With all the tackle of my certain magic
Stone hard to lift.

A cross of legs
That Christ was never nailed upon,
A sea of breasts,
A thousand sailing thighs.

I build a tower and I pull it down;
The flying bird’s a feather,
Has no flesh or bone,
Carried by any wind to anywhere.

Go as my wish;
Then I shall go,
But in the light of going
Minutes are mine
I could devote to other things.
Stop has no minutes, but I go or die.

24 with blood to let my love flow in

It is a sour notion in the blood

About my lonely head in flagged unlovely red

Sleep navigates the tides of time;
The dry Sargasso of the tomb
Gives up its dead to such a working sea;
And sleep rolls mute above the beds
Where fishes’ food is fed the shades
Who periscope through flowers to the sky.

Love me, as loves the mole his darkness
And the timid deer the tigress:
Hate and fear be your twin loves.
Love me and lift your mask.

There are no seacaves deeper than her eyes;
Day treads the trees and she the cavernous night.
...
Pity Electra loveless, she whose grief
Drowns and is drowned, who utters to the stars
Her syllables, and to the gods her love;
Pity the poor unpitied who are strange with tears. 💔

Lain with parched things; loved dogs and women;
I have desired the circle of the sun.
Tested by fire, double thumb to nose,
I’ve mocked the moving of the universe.
Where, what? There was commotion in the skies,
But no god rose. I have seen bad and worse,
Gibed the coitus of the stars. No god
Comes from my evil or my good. Mad, mad,
Feeling the pinpricks of the blood,I’ve said
The novel things. But it has been no good

Where, what’s my God? I have been mad, am mad,
Have searched for shells and signs on the sea shore,
Stuck straw and seven stars upon my hair,
And leant on stiles and on the golden bar,
I have ridden on gutter dung and cloud.
Under a hideous sea where coral men
Feed in the armpits of drowned girls. I’ve swum
And sunk; waved flags to every fife and drum;
Said all the usual things over and again;
->

Even among his own kin he is lost,
Is love a shadow on the wall,
Among all living men he is a sad ghost.
He is not man’s nor woman’s man,
Leper among a clean people
Walks with the hills for company,
And has the mad trees’ talk by heart.