Love more Love

Forget the tranquil long song
Designed to feel
From certain beat
That is gone
And demand more for what
You have missed

Where lyric verbs
Like I love you and I love you not
Cannot be retained by tears
But rather by that simplest remembrance
Of war and death
The last conjunctions of a great heart
Only the wounded bird should be
Able to hold all.

poem by George the Great VIII
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Here Are All Historical Shades

My history beckons like the dry town of Prairies.
Cute and fierce, fearless and enslavement
As the likeness on the Platte: The Powder, the Niobrara,
The Tongue, the Snakes, and the Yellowstone
Who, as an American buffalo, strange moonlight,
Explode with gigantic waves!

My history beckons like a halfway
Body of Missouri River and the Frockless,
Along the Paha-Sapa and the Black Hills
Cemented by the Sioux’s bones
Under such delighted night of long dance and tales!

My history beckons, oh powerless!
As the magic, mightily sport beyond the thunderbirds
Of the clean range of souls and hearts
As the unimaginable size of American bison!

poem by George the Great VIII
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