The Fork of Ambiguity » Drink http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com Multi-tyned Poems Tue, 13 Jul 2010 07:57:45 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0 The Cold Morning Before http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/193 http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/193#comments Wed, 02 Sep 2009 09:58:01 +0000 lunc http://www.the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/?p=193 This fine crisply cool late summer morn is wasted,
or rather I am, as it bursts unbidden upon the room.
The squeaky-wheel bird has nested atop my head
and he knows but one single, terrible, treble harmony;
notes played upon the ear and skull, with gusto.

Fine colleagues, do not surround me in sleep, rise;
like the hopes in the strengthened, practised, arm
you showed as we sung evensong until the dawn.
Rise I say; sleep not like the just and righteous man
who bangs, now, heavily upon my shrunken soul.

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