Lurid Hills Of Ithaka

Lurid Hills Of Ithaka
© Surazeus
2026 09 29

Since Ithaka is always on my mind, 
forever just ahead in swirling mist 
toward which I journey by the starry map, 
I gather riches of sorrowful truth 
in my constructing hands so I can build 
safe haven for my children to grow wise. 

Through curtains of uncertainty I leap 
into frame of the sudden photograph 
where I hang frozen without angel wings 
till paper crinkles and dissolves to dust, 
then I fall into well of gravity 
to hold my loving spouse in gentle arms. 

Though brave heretics against holy thoughts 
emerge in flames from tomb of confidence, 
they cast all superstitions to the ground 
in challenge to the Gorgon of the church 
that lurks as faceless ghost of arrogance 
in twisted shadows of the broken house. 

Since travelers still ride their placid ways 
in cool shade of the nuclear missile bomb, 
we give each other tickets for the train 
that never takes to Heaven nameless soul 
who flocks around my passion-wired mind 
as loyal bride in tattered wedding dress. 

Because the yellow sea ghost of desire 
derides our plan derived from mordent leaves 
to follow blood-thick river of respect, 
I leap the lunar silences of fate 
while I record sweet music of the sand 
to prove that Heaven is our fantasy. 

If snow disfigures idols of our gods 
that stand by frozen brooks of travesty, 
I may decide to run with gentle wolves 
through evergreen forest of lonely vales 
far from the illness of my fractured mind 
so I become light of the afternoon. 

Now that my deconstructed soul of masks 
has been regenerated by the egg, 
my mother asks the spirit of her god 
to beam from stars and animate my mind 
with solemn honor of the upright creed, 
but I would somersault the laughing beach. 

With unconstraining voice of solitude 
I dare rejoice at rapture of my heart 
when I guard healing fountain with sharp eye 
that waters lurid hills of Ithaka 
with ghosts of heroes who give away names 
of their brave spirits to the world today.