The unrepentant verse

The unrepentant verse stands alone for a while
          as often monks do making allowances for merging
Anytime now. Will the monk's beggar ways allow
          transfiguration to go on, as if transfiguration is a
mere word, heavy tailed, light to the deft-hearted
          and somewhat tired of bequeathing hope to the 
beggarly woes of an unannounced monkish herd
          relying on a sign, on a blip from heaven, to bring
a renounced gladness to the many many begging
          bowls? The hole is a hole and the punctured soul
remains holed up in big words. The unrepentant
          verse howls to escape this nonsense and stands.

Two unmediated lies
I.
Whistle bound, the hereafter will forego
Preparation if the solemn is to undergo

Change; grease on the forehead will mark
Acrimony, heartbeats will measure change

Of grace, and the torn reminders of a
Rapid fall from the past are markers of

A gainsaid triteness opposing lunar falls
And galaxial proportions. Such is the grip

Of lava on the hush of dawn; such is the
Slip of tongue that gives verse its hold.

II.
Arguably the mist is down and out trying
To find the graver consequences of its

Mooring; cantankerously held in arms of
Sublime dispossession, the mist is filling

Up in elegant containments, in ravines of
No delight, in slats of dearness, crannies

Of slight, catacombs, visitations at night,
Culminations, derivations of a heaviness

That reverses the meaning when it has to,
Otherwise it is quite content to stay plain.

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