Yes Emily, hope is a thing that perches in the soul,
but it is neither feathered nor sings.
It has lost its plumage to mange,
and it wails for its broken wing.
It can no longer fly,
and it must remain on the ground with me.
Its cries are pitiful,
and I wish to put it out of its misery.
Excerpt from The Familiar and Ordinary
It’s all been reduced to ash,
with nothing left but cinders,
our sooty hands ache and burn
from our futile effort to find embers.
Selection from Persephone Unleashed
Us peasants pay homage to a court,
where Life and Death are supreme,
its prince Sleep is a dozing sort,
his sister Oblivion never seen,
Hail to the King and Queen!
Jester Joviality has bones that creak,
Illness boasts a musty petticoat,
Tragedy sports a cutting beak,
while Suicide carries a sad note,
and Catastrophe does naught but gloat.
Fatigue is usually dragged by Reason,
Apathy never bothers to show,
War tramples every season,
and Hate never lets Love know
the parties Lust is going to throw.
Peace normally makes an appearance,
if Hope can stand the company of Doubt,
Mercy will usually run interference,
if Justice and Wrath are about,
the twins Faith and Patience usually pout.
To this court we all belong,
and without exception pay what’s due,
the rich, the poor, the meek, the strong,
will all repay the debts we accrue
by the great courtiers we bend to.
Excerpt from The Road