Because I emerge
from caves
leave wall paintings behind,
death stalks me
You may
go be entertained
with the excitement
the thrills
the bombast of convention
My gentle lust
has degenerated
into a napkin of anxiety
My erected hope
has splashed white
to ejaculated discharge
to dissipated hope
unfertilized embryonic thought
gone mad with grief
Don’t look
I can cry in
underground cave rivers
unseen
I know bats
better than heaven
that will not
bat an eye for me
for I am
of empty
gone
I would forgive your
every silly, but
you demand my
conventional stability
a comfort no jester
could laugh away
What now my love
To cave is to die
Flight remains batty
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)
Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert
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