As Wounds Love Salt

By Robert Mero Canevari

A collection of original poetry, including prose; odes; haiku; lyric, free, and irregular verse, with classical influences from the English pre-standardized period.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Egeria Press
• Release date: May 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798987060605

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CONTENTS 

first, Allegro.

second, Vivace.

third, Presto.

A Note on the Type

Acknowledgements

A Note on the Author

As Wounds Love Salt

Graphic page

As Wounds

LOVE SALT

{poems} 

Robert Mero

Canevari

Graphic

Tatterdemalion

Sought, saught panegyrics,

Eleemosynary via spite;

Be all my sins remember’d,

As wounds love salt.

The Egeria Press

645 W 9th St Suite 110

N° 208

Los Angeles, CA 90015

As Wounds Love Salt Copyright © 2023 by Robert Mero Canevari

All Rights Reserved

Published in the United States of America and internationally by

The Egeria Press

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without express written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles, journalism, and reviews.

For information, please contact/send inquiries to

[e-mail]

Or, address to the following:

The Egeria Press

645 W 9th St Suite 110

N° 208

Los Angeles, CA 90015

Jacket & Cover Design by David Fassett

Interior Book Design by Anamaria Stefan

Copyediting by Melodie Ellison, with contributions by Sakile Odimo

Composed and typeset in Ibarra Real Nova

First Edition, 2023

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022912548

LC Record Available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022912548

ISBN (Hardcover): 979-8-9870606-9-8

ISBN (eBook): 979-8-9870606-0-5

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

To my parents ~ who kept

a home never at a loss for books, and

continually placed them in my hands

"I was never really insane,

except upon occasions

when my heart was

touched"

- Edgar Allan Poe -

You who hear in scattered rhymes

The sound of those sighs with which I

Nourished my heart in my first,

Youthful error"

- Petrarch -

poems. 

As Wounds Love Salt.

first, Allegro.

I had in

Every way

Intended,

To pour purifying salt

Upon the wound:

Quite mistakenly,

I employed upon the sores

An excess of

Sugar;

So while the

Bacteria feed,

So shall I bleed,

As wounds love salt,

My body hath now

A developed taste for

Sweetener.

Come here,

Drown the king;

There is nothing wrong

With regicide against your own

Idols, your heart-

Kill your darlings,

My darling!

Allow yourself to hold nothing close,

And when you free up that empty space,

Devoid of chamber music,

Bereft of an echo,

Whisper in a way

Unforeseen by any modern tongue,

How you and I might continue.

The exile’s return

Was celebrated

Only by those

He had left for dead.

So glad were they

Of his departure from

Their home,

That while he

Sang his mock-bard’s sorrows

At the grave heads of his

Motherland,

So too sang the graves

He left behind,

Free to be ghosts

At last.

Acidic in my endocarp,

Making fools of none,

Lie to me, cheat me, spend me,

And speak words of silk over

My prostrate frame.

Your arms are my

Pillow,

Your breast is my

Shelter,

Your mouth is my

Dictionary;

Helping me to decipher

Strange, new things

My heart has not yet learned

To entreat.

Give me my taste,

A taste I can’t recognize,

Yet love and cherish all the

Same!

Give me my taste,

A taste that,

Once gone,

Comes rushing back to me,

So that I beg to taste again!

Beguiling is the flower in my hand,

The dirt beneath my nails,

An exposition

Of my desire,

To touch what is wild.

Does the Sun envy itself,

When it sees its own reflection

Upon the surface of the moon,

That great Narcissus in the sky?

Do not gaze at the Sun,

But