Encolpion i.


I have come to love with right and love's contention.
I am selfish. I have hurt others. I am vile.
I have changed Good Foresight for mauling satisfaction.
I have finished in the beauty of my wiles.

Respite is nothing but a frost, over expectation.
I am refected by what is proximal and acute.
Let the fire enter with a little light, let the iron
be an invitation to a brute.

If I am silent to less account and I do nothing
I become part of a hundred, good by them
without time or sadness but as fog and sheen.

If I do more, I confess my ignorance vaunting,
I become none of a hundred, like passion, like contempt.
I mend what vary, heel the small and burn away exceed.

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                           © Habley Mouse, a Private Press, 2011.  All rights reserved.  (Poetry by William Frank)
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