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Dave Bonta
times touch and trouble us
where we move
melancholy as an ox
the work done for the office
the office never off
I take great pleasure in doubt
never prince was happier than I
who bled out of my own temple
an ox making my home by the sea
A full ox is said
to tower, half house
and rank as night.
Life be blessed, but I am much
against too much,
now that we leave pleasure
to the rope.
A clerk’s place:
I raise an ox of paper
off my writing.
What is the secret of your life, browsing ox,
Ox the sweet grass eating ?
Who strung the mighty sinews in your flesh ?
Who set that great heart beating ?
What is the secret of your death, soulless ox.
Ox so patiently waiting ?
Why hath pain wove her net for your brain's anguish ?
If for you Death will gain no life's creating ?