exo-capitalism
quit-thinking commerce
every mighty mouse tiny
house espouse & advertise
We have outlived angry homelands
embraced those followers, fowls
and all those who passed us
on fish-stairs, the main abounder
all beneath a summer sun
who’d remember mama and the kids
parades of generations imagined as music
through wisdom turns to stone
Older than these rolled, sleeping hills
a flag stuck in sand is all a person is
who can bring celestial sound at times
despite beggar’s rags
As from far across remote oceans
great expectations and holy cows
expect gurus, oracles, and prophets
instead find glittering idols
which inhabit a simple melody
I wear away, riding a mule
in pursuit of the strange quality
of ever-circling birds
Nature is a smith more sublime
than artisans and artists attempting
artifice and making us sleep -
seeking a shore unfound
cities of gold beyond our ken
from antique gorges to crowded streets
farther and farther away
John--You're a hero.
ReplyDelete(Hoping this posts as Mary Clurman)