Two Poems
Elizabeth Metzger Sampson

Some devils

The giants formed this sensual existence, live in it in shame. One portion of life is devouring.

The sky appeared beneath us, isn't that nice? These are devils and they are called powers of the air.

I asked my companion, at last to the east. Mouth and red gills. My friend the angel climbed into a mill. A world where left alone one finds a harpist on a riverbank. And all of the species helped by the middle.

It is but lost time to converge with you whose works are only analytic.

(Text occassionally sourced from Blake's "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell")


Vessel, cleaved --

But cut closed prow on enjoy. Plow prudence on the bow. Who loves water, Is in love, No fathom measured. Wholesome net weight injuried. Bounty my body a weep let fell.

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