Come Through the Sycamores

by Corbin Wamble

 

Let us go, let us go

On the ends of greco lanes

Temples and statues of suburban pillars

The quick moving cherubs of April thrillers

Where the glassy men fall fast atop lilacs

Past urbane retreats and ladies in pink

Some violet and autumn, garrulous greens

Muttering their excitement into the wind

Shedding their feathers into the wind

Winding down avenue Maryland

 

And the wind blows us back
Let the wind blow us back

The soft purple sway of the newly birthed lilac

To the hum of hyacinths, the sway of hyacinths

Mocking the lane of yellow fire hydrants  

To let us go sure on Jesuit wings

Through crocodilian myrtles

And magnolian rain

Condensing in droplets across of a pane

The unpainted lattice of clear window panes

Hiding our sadness in hyaline shade

 

And the days were bright, the days were bright

I will walk out of the door and into the light

To see a flaxen tangle so sure of itself

Sure that it’s happy with somebody else

And I will walk out into the lane

On cloud ridden evenings

Tepid days

To prance through iridescent rain

And hope to catch a bow

To dream to catch a bow

To string it on our backs and fire an arrow

 

And I will say, I will say

That alchemy does not interest me

I do not exchange stars for astrology

I do not rank colors where colors exchange

To wind up and down the avenue lanes

And watch the hyacinths bloom in March

I do not watch

As pods bloom to petals

As thorns grow to roses

I do not watch as ruins embezzle

With the star dust of Ra and glistening metal

 

And I do not watch, I do not pay mind to reprise

Because after will always be fast on the rise

A mark for when Daphne’s descend into time

When hyacinths rise up a petal and mark it with air

For the bosoms of petals to slick back their hair

And say “This is all for now”

“For better, for autumns arisal is now”

Is it better to laugh or to scowl?

For the thorns that grew blossoms to now make amends

To lasso the moon with a chain and pull it closer

To revolve to a roof on top of the rover

And will there be more?

Another stonehenge of mayans?

A pillar of rock for the high sun to shine in?

And will it say?

“There will be another spring, another day”

“It will always, always be this way.”

 

And have we enough fuel in the tank

To spread our rubber wings down towards the sea

To claim on our lives that after all, we our free

For just a day

Just for a moment

To claim that we are each others good omens

To claim that we were cut by the blade grass

To claim that we were pampered by pelicans

And is it all that we were for?

To fix the door and break it too?

To jiggle the key and say it won’t work for you

The key won’t work on you

To say adieu

Although we were never giften with mechanics

Or other languages

But only chartreuse and pages

And do we pay taxes or mind

To all of the living that we’ve left behind?

And how do we decide?

 

But I am no fool

I am not one to pick up his hat after he’s fallen

Too dust off his denim and walk along the street

Past the mounds of dark forest and retreat

To walk a stream and remember

A stream that gargles softly

With brisk granite water as its offering

And I am no fool

To put on his coat of wool

And walk into the winters past

And say “I am warm”

“I am in no need of fire, I am warm”

For I admit I am cold in a storm

My wool is no match to wind

I am no sheep

I am not without a shepherd

And have you heard?

That hard splintered heads utter soft spoken words

And have you seen?

The night sky tells stories to brothers in requiem

And I am no fool, I am no fool 

I will not be one who sits at a cafe table to drool

To talk nonsense

To talk meaningless topics

I am purebred vanity with endless pockets

 

But I am no fool

I will not drool

I will not sit around a table with friends and tool

Tool around

Plant seeds in the ground and watch them grow slowly

To wait for the season of harvest

I do not wait for larvae to shed their cocoons

I am no breeder, I have no need to groom

I will sit atop the sky in a hot air balloon

And proclaim to the heavens in leaping croons

“And I am no fool, I am no fool”

“I have no patience to sit around a tool”

 

But there are chrysanthemums in sunlight

And orchards full of tangerines

And orchards growing dreams that rise green like the harvest moon

And I am no fool, I am no fool

I will sit and watch the moon as it rules

Over night, over night

I will sit and watch the moon as it shines alight

And I will sit and draw the moon

And I will sit and watch the moon

And will sit and wait for the chrysanthemums to bloom

Corbin Wamble is a seventeen year old writer.

Read More...

May 2019

© 2020 by The Esthetic Apostle