April Showers in September

What lips my lips have kissed and where and why
I have long since forgotten
And what bull-heavy heads have hung on my pillow ‘till daybreak
When rigid Ra beckons men to their myriad servitudes

I cannot remember now

A tempest is raging tonight and it is laden with phantoms
Purple-grey contusions conjoined in a crude fashion to mirror a cloud
Soon those ravenous hounds will be at my windowpane
Glut, glut, glut each and every one of them after an old meat

Alone… and for a long-time past

On nights like this loneliness is a lily-white chill
To be alone is to be lost in the velveteen veil
That obscures your visions of gay lads a play in poppy field in May
To be alone what a sweet poison; an acrimonious pill

March on little solders in your red coats