Satyr, by Dennis Daly
In the woodlands of the world’s dimensions
Goatish men roam, laugh their outlandish laugh
That identifies each self from the chaff
Of cheerless men. They are aberrations
Who seek out hidden beauty, consummate
Their lust and longings in the high grasses.
Nymphs scatter before them, coaxing blushes
Into creation’s garden. The vulgate
Of nature is well parsed from higher rites,
Angels dimmed by wantonness. Here I sketch
One newly alive, a fiery blackguard
With unpleasant visage. He joins the knights
Preserving Eden. Club in hand, the wretch
Understands his fate. Art does not reward.
Dennis Daly lives in Salem MA. he has published six books of poetry and poetic translations. His 7th book, The Devil's Artisan, Sonnets From the Autobiography of Benvento Cellini is now seeking a publisher. His blog site, Weights and Measures, is dennisfdaly.BlogSpot.com.
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