this poem is written as a critique/satire/reaction of/to william blake’s chimney sweeper poems in songs of innocences and experience as well as his overall mythos, particularly expressed in his marriage of heaven and hell piece. It is also a response to Matthew 6: 25-34, and is still in progress. It may, at this point, not be understandable as a piece separate from Blake’s writings or the scripture.
—–
songs of enchantment:
the little goat he knew
there in the field of laughing lilies’ array
far away from empty mirrors of them and us
away from the oiled skies–
where choked suns perish–
is a place for the barefooted to bow.
quills of grass scribble eloquence; and fold.
there are no liminal things there, all enrapture,
all but the sooted child–fresh escape–
from the sad paleblack coffins underneath
these sweet lolling tongues of green praise
bees swarm around and around solomon’s spite
they have no time for sorrow, and with proud duty serve
oh! the ash is gone, heavyaway from my lungs
but where? where is my promised father large?
all alone, all around me is the symphony
of careless birds who have no home and
echos of weep-weep-weep in my garland’d head
and I am wanting of joy–
desperately.
