To Cave Is To Die

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

I know bats
better than heaven
that will not
bat an eye for me
for I am
of empty

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