EC729 (4)

© @ http://esoschronicles.blogspot.com/

TransVerse Poetry

Eso’s Chronicles

(since 1970s/ The Ledger, Brookline, Mass.)

In our soulless times

Reminding the reader of Emily Dickinson’s

“The Soul Selects Its Own Society”

The Soul selects her own Society—
Then—shuts the Door—
To her divine Majority—
Present no more—

Unmoved—she notes the Chariots—

Pausimg—

At her low Gate—

Unmoved—an Emperor kneeling

Upon her Mat—

I've known her—

from an ample nation—

Choose One—
Then—close the Vslves of

her attention—

Like Stone—

(Adlib ©  by Anton Wendamenč)

^{From “Songs From My Autobiografy”}

“You still have

That piece of land

Where

On Midsummer’s Eve

(So I have heard)

Boys go

Count the haystacks

With ladders

Drawn up

Then stand below

And whack themselves

Off

Listening to the

Cries of ecstasy

Up top”