The Love Song of C. Robert Darwin

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art fitter, and more fertile.
Thy dark and wide-set eyes are characteristically
female traits, and therefore attract me to thee
as a potential mother. Thy shining red gold
hair is a phenotype arising from a recessive
gene, and consequently appeals to my innate
drive to diversify my family's stock
on a subconscious but profound level,
but your typically northern European
features are familiar, and therefore do not
trigger within me an aggressive response, as
to an outsider. Thy secondary and tertiary
sexual characteristics illogically but inexorably
persuade me that you are physically capable
of ensuring the survival of our hypothetical
offspring, while thy waist-to-hip ratio is
near ideal for child bearing. Oh dearest,
do be mine! At least until you are
no longer of reproductive age.

"O Lieb', O Liebe!
So golden schön
Wie Morgenwolken
Auf jehnen Höhn!"

Sigismund

Ah, my fine clear-eyed cavalier-
why, is your black heart still beating?
Why have you not spilled your acrid blood,
sticky and acidic and welling up in
the chest? Come, succumb, bleed
into that devoutly wished dissolution,
the stinging sleep, the soporific burning
of hair and bone. Here, where Eros
meets his counterpart, I will wait,
for yourself and for your posterity.

 "And death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die."

Dostoevsky Ascendant

Earth does not burn, nor
fire groan. Wheels spin into
wheels and the wheel remains.
The idols never slit the throats
of beasts but sit in solemn
frozen jubilation. You drag me
through these midnight hours
by the hair, by the throat,
by tongue and tooth. You
make me hurt, you make
me feel––cruel compassion,
you make me bleed!––and all
for naught unless you see aright.

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