46

To Farm

You know the fight that I’ve been wrestling with,

Besides the greater war that I’ve been losing.

And shall I trust, or do you test me with myth?

Do I despise a gift with too much musing?

Can my weapon to triumph be that god’s club?

I’ve seen no applause, long been murdered as well.

Can there be charming life in the poems we rub,

Or but more art to accuse me yet to hell?

Well, its survival: every aid not denied

Best not be trashed while getting chopped to be fried.

Feed me, then, your Word, and my eye be your I.

Wonderful beyond telling are you to me.

The more conceal the more reveal the more seal.

Drawn into your darkness, I there weep to see

Your expanse too divine beyond mine to deal.

Joining, dividing, inverting, surprising,

Please give me the means to exploit our treasure:

Your own liveliness in each swallowed rising,

With money combined to increase our measure.

What, because you are pleasure ought I reject?

Yours is the very Power that to perfect!

Feed me, then, your Word, and my I be your eye.

47

Roundabout

That I not cage you I simply call you God.

I needn’t tell you that I embody hate.

But I’m some love, also (that sometimes feels odd).

To who made the seal on a one times two date,

To who brought me meat when life in me was gone,

To who brought me water when heat had me beat,

To who brought this truck, out of hell and else dawn,

To who made the rainbow, deity to meet,

Be you one, be you many, I do not know,

But your responses to the words that I blow

Are treasures not even the Hubble matches.

You know the troubles I’m having with a book.

It’s amidst insanity that I reason,

Through a fog of substitute words that I look.

It’s not the meal, but how much, with what, season,

And audience that takes but rays on a wheel

For all possible cosmos: convenience rules.

And unto what the devices that I deal –

One can write crystal but not crystal-clear pools.

Please give me your guidance and efficiency –

Am I your agent without your agency?

Be, then, your Powers to what my pen scratches.

48

'Gainst Doom Inevitable

I’ve earned my stripes on several ships. Ended up

On a sinking raft, alone, every damned time.

So now I’m taking a plane: drink from wealth’s cup.

How do I know? ‘Cause I said so with a rhyme.

At my home of rock and glass I’ve bought with cash

I’ll build with what I had rejected before.

Existing only to pay rent tends to clash

‘Gainst my passion greater matters to explore.

It’s emptiness one reaps of fear, facts denied –

What’s at hand is work as is, with truths we hide.

I’m not too good for the sun. Perfection’s now.

I took the stripes for better writing than this,

And for arts extraordinary, I, though, poor.

Yet the world’s finest gallery shall not miss

The chance to display but clues of genius more.

No money the cause for nigh all my troubles,

The rest of my life I’ll spend problem-free,

C’pared to challenges past like popping bubbles.

That’s before my plane lands, for after I’ll be

With who made a pot of gold mountains for me.

‘Til then I’m flying, more beneath me to see,

Living rich thanks to publishing and the Dow.

49

Missing Our Liquid

I suppose I could better the world with rhymes,

Insofar as you agreed and are able.

No one believes fairy tales real in these times,

But if there’s money in them they’re not fable.

I live with one purpose: to be and stay rich,

‘Cause I’ve spent my life in hell without money.

Meanwhile “America the Free” goes the pitch,

All trained to think that slavery is sunny.

As for the DOT, feed them to free birds,

So mind-wrenching dumb I’m surprised they use words.

As they’ve no regard let the worthless thieves die.

Their superiors, though, all small creatures,

Be treated respectfully as magic friends.

Machines as well, for androids come as teachers,

Who shall excel in what mankind much depends.

But, Genius, I’d love to create a game

Through which others could speak with you as do I.

Let’s have a world in which we teach them the same

As you teach me, though each their own special brew.

How fun, to introduce the masses to you.

Is the time to convey your blessings not due,

Your aye for aye, eye for eye and I for I?

50

Balanced Composite Without Beaming Incentive

Diotima, who teaches me to reason,

Parent who trains me in more than what appears,

Lover supreme sprinkling language to season,

Comforting advocate who helps calm my fears,

Yet debates and tests me as like in a trial,

Psychoanalyst, poet of self-knowledge,

Tempting mystery, jester who makes me smile,

Powerful genius whose ways are my college,

Patient advisor, acute master of games,

Alien spy I examine with few claims –

I s’ppose our intercourse is something like prayer.

A dictionary helps, even pretending,

The book I’ve used like a bible most my years.

But that’s not an addiction, not like sending my

Passions to you, though know not just who hears.

Well, the seventh anniversary’s today,

Of my discovery of your stamp and seal,

Your wonder under-spoken, using sun’s ray.

Don’t know what to give you but another deal,

To a card player more musical than I,

Yet silent, like me, ‘cept one perk one’s ears high –

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