Narcissus Within Us And so a flower blooms, in switchwayed fingers cracked. Blossoming some stone-clad time, of mans small tendered rest. Of pool and grabbing, all self-caged waiting. If he is we in resting bowl, lank hair from dew's lost hating. From reflected golden hues on skin, to blue grey slate washed stone; No move, died rustles years ago, to make a liquid home. And lo the Hot Gates, gap of blood and Spartan shield, opposed in opposites attract on merriment on track and field; for the Gods; for Distance; nevermore our feet to yield: never more our feet cross track and field, dust lacked soles, evermore our form to yield.

The Inglorious Dead A boy lay down in a field A boy lay down to die. A boy lay down in the chaff, From the corn In the silent brother rye. A boy lay down Lay down to die. A boy lay down to rest his head Wrapped in silent earthworm cries; A boy lay down No pillow, no stead; A boy lay down No quilt: Earth cover. A boy lay down in a field A boy lay down to die. Remember us, The inglorious dead, Who lie in the fields Remember those who lie. The unsung martyrs in weather warn beds. Said the boy in the field Said the boy who lay down And died.