Life wraps its layer of touch around one, Like a haunting blanket Smothering the taunting lips of a child. Curving their fingers around your hilt Men strive to purchase the triumph Of an imagined escape. I teach them plaintively to weave Schemes of consolation On the broad texture of their lives. You tell them to slash the fabric, Reaching into the black space underneath it. You are not a symbol of cruelty. An innocent impatience Sharpens the comedy of your blade. _Sword_ Men have only two choices-- To worship idols or mimic fireflies, And I lend my strength to each choice, Teaching them to abandon The harlequin raptures of words. _Philosopher_ You bring them yearning turbulence, And I, a quick-tongued refuge. Silence will pardon both of us. CAPTAIN SIMMONS An arbitrary architect Became his mind, and planned Cathedrals, mansions, and shops In a room enclosed by hair. And so a crowded town Occupied the dwarfed miles in his head, And along the boundary-line That separated thought from emotion Darkly seething slums grew up. Owing to the lack of space Prevailing in mental slums, Some buildings had been forced Into the realm of emotion. Within these structures half-breeds lived-- Creatures whose inconsequent Color prevented them From being entirely logical, And whose reeking impulses Were deplorably snubbed by thought. Being from the slums of mind These hybrids loved the dirt of arguments Inherited from centuries of men, Stopping now and then To order emotional brandy. It is unnecessary To tell that Captain Simmons was old, With a body like the fading dream Of an athlete, and a face Made womanly by age. MORE ABOUT CAPTAIN SIMMONS Captain Simmons’ legs Were praying after much capering. Legs can pray without kneeling When they steal pity from city streets. On Captain Simmons’ face Wrinkled inhibitions were giving Moth-eaten lace to that soft tolerance Where memory and dying desire sleep without dreams. Captain Simmons’ black suit Fitted him loosely while his mind Became him tightly, and the reason Flickered in his smile. For all of life he had hidden Beneath a loose generosity In order to escape the fact That certain of his thoughts Were supplied with tights and slyness, And his smile was a lit candle held For a moment uncertainly over this situation. If one mentioned that Captain Simmons Was possessed by the plight of eyes Like pinched chicaneries of fate, Above a face of visual penuries, One would only hide his essential parts Beneath the futility of explanation. CAPTAIN SIMMONS’ WIFE