To Clark Ashton Smith

Christopher Alderman

His ghost disgorged a body; built of ice,
Hurtled beyond the unpondered orb of men,
Frozen in dark aphelions again
That comet had accomplished: his demise.
The humongous weight your lofty heart defies
Returns you, Smith, and nearer to the sun
Is nigher me, and ah! Hyperion,
The world of love, and sorrow, and reprise.

Moist walls of human flesh; coarse webs of hair;
Deep well of eyes no thirst will ever drain;
Our myths are dust, but maker! we remain,
And where the waters wreathe your fallen head --
Where life has fed upon the dying e'er --
The dying man must feed upon the dead.

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