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Dave Bonta
on any peak
the din of ice
no little up and off again
where are we come to
what high rough peak
having in my book a secret door to the night
I will fall up
I clog myself with desire
and miss the peak
alone in my barrow
I endeavor to see
give two loves for one
late-night stay
painting the peak like a peak
some sage for the bedside
how to have that peak
now making up the plain
I will tell my heart
to change lodgings
I am alone, in spite of love,
In spite of all I take and give--
In spite of all your tenderness,
Sometimes I am not glad to live.
I am alone, as though I stood
On the highest peak of the tired gray world,
About me only swirling snow,
Above me, endless space unfurled;
With earth hidden and heaven hidden,
And only my own spirit's pride
To keep me from the peace of those
Who are not lonely, having died.