A discourse

There was sawdust on my tongue: I was
Baffled, and croaked—yet spoke none; 
Cried none, for no name could utter
Such sound of disgrace. Earthen 
Words of the worldly prince! Drawn
Near I was by that which was beautiful, and
Fled away I have since.

(Spinning sycamore?)  No, only ignes fatui
Trailing reminiscence of those shell-bearing 
Moths, pretentious and devious of their means. 
Together, a blind man's scaffold upholstered! 
Laconic, yet confounding at the same time, 
In groups most familiar—and still 
Dampened my sight.

Dale Chou
2003-06-26