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.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus wanders the lurid hills of Ithaka with vain hope to find his wife and children whose faceless ghosts follow him in the lunar silences of fate.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism