LXXVI
Though it may seem I see the Donut’s hole
More often than I taste its sug’ry glaze,
Be rest assured those holes all play a role
Within the dough that shapes its tasty maze;
For to explore profoundest of extremes,
I must endure the height of Love’s delights,
And at the drop of fickle-mooded Dreams
Full-plume the depths of grief bestricken wights;
To frame the Joyous ecstasies of Woe
I must become the versatilest brush,
Lamenting fears and loves with heedless show,
As if my Life were Doomed within their rush:
Were I the Pessimist that some would brand,
I would have died ere this, by mine own hand.
* * * * *
LXXVII
My Heart is in the Harem of my breast
Along with those who glance their eyes aside,
And so bestow the glories of my Chest
Upon their cede whilst casting far and wide;
It thrums its warmth within my soft-spun veins,
Holding its heat within its Precious hum,
And so I find the giddy gaude of gains
Within its beat and tempo’d torrid drum;
My Heart is here and here my Heart may stay
As long as it desires to call me home,
And though it choose to dance in others’ sway,
I will enshrine each lease it deigns entome;
O hark my Heart; in Here thy Love may see
The Precious gem and better part of me.
* * * * *
LXXVIII
Why should my worth be measured by a lump
Of metal alloy stamped to shape a coin
For niggard hoards, who frame all others ‘Chump’
For Prizing Heart above prime Tenderloin?
Why should my say be said by gilded tongues
To value less for being formed in dross
Than those who press their lips against the rungs
Of Status Quo, smearing its Scarlet gloss?
Why should my Voice be dressed in standard garb
And speak a lie to gain a single step
When those who breathe perfume can shoot a barb
And leap a mile, solely on silver’d rep?
Why should I roll the dice of Fortune’s Plea
When Others pay to load them against me?
* * * * *
LXXIX
I’ve never wondered why I do these things,
Walking for miles to see a single view,
And yet I find the need to test my wings
Has no regard for sights of different hue;
A Specificity of gen’ral like
Causes my Heart to pinpoint thru a fog
The briefest glimpse of Saltutory Pike,
And off I go, traipsing the mired’st bog;
Weep not the pains that then beset my feet,
Nor moan the greed that empties thus my purse,
For at the end, the just desserts I meet
Outweigh the drains my weakness tempts to curse;
When I entrust my Course to my Heart’s reins,
I find my needs fulfilled in Concise veins.
* * * * *
LXXX
Slip-soft my step upon the sandy shore
Raising a gale to linger in my wake,
A storm of Sear and tempo-mounted moor
Crashing in waves upon a shattered lake;
Soft-slip my step in trance along a Line
Weaving a Dream to shape the Hearts of Men
Into a foil and Wisdom-seeking shrine,
Embalming truth within our mansions’ ken;
Soft-slip my Heart into the dance of Time
Ensuring all the tethers of my Soul
Can be cut loose in well belovéd Rhyme
And distant eyes that learn my Spirit whole;
Soft-slip my step into the Ocean’s Sway
That I may Rise and learn this Siren’s lay.
* * * * *
LXXXI
I am privileged. This I understand.
I went to schools above the average leaf.
I had a dog, and cats, and acred land.
I swam in lake, and sea, and coral reef.
I eat good food and work a paying job
Where I learn skills, which I can then ingrain,
And I have Time to fling myself Abroad,
Whether o’er land or Sea by aeroplane.
And yet I chafe to live a different way,
Unchecked by pay, toiling for mine own ends,
Not gazing Wist across a world-wide bay,
But close at hand, with Dear, like-minded friends.
I know my life is not downtrodden grim,
But my content can’t be vacation’d whim.
* * * * *
LXXXII
There is construction going on next door,
An awful din that makes it hard to think,
Much less record; I hate to seem a boor,
But this “vacation’s” on the bloomin’ blink;
Between the noise of buzzsaws on my right
And obsessed landscape pruning on my left
And motorboats growling before my sight
And aeroplanes booming to heave their heft,
I’m quite perturbed, if not outright dismayed
At all the noise pollution going on
Where once the Rule of Silence over-weighed
All my attempts to laugh upon the lawn;
Don’t get me started on Cicada charms:
The vildest Sand Merks couldn’t hail more harms.
* * * * *
LXXXIII
There is a thunder growing in my Heart,
An urge to leap despite a shackled Core,
The need to rip asunder every part
Of daily life, wherein I’d once set store:
The tedium of toiling thru a day
To earn a modicum of private rest
Wherein I must encase the precious pay
Of my Soul’s Joy and pleasure giving best
Has ever been a frame that I despise,
Chafing at Mind and consternating wit,
Yet knowing not what made my Spirit rise,
I had no way to yoke my champing bit;
But seeing now the light that makes me Soar,
I have no Will to Patience anymore!
* * * * *
* * * * *
XCV
Thine eye, Sweet Friend, is bright to catch my gaze,
And I would cast my Sight unto the Sea
To feel its Light, and share the Warmth of Days
Within its grasp, content to shelter’d be;
But that the pull of Present-minded tasks
Embroils my wit and drags upon mine arms,
And though I turn, straining beneath their masks
To show my Heart, I fear I lack thy charms;
The Firefly flash of burning, Brilliant glow
That holds mine eye despite Distraction’s toil,
Is like a blaze, dwarfing my meager bow
And the slight Sparks it shoots to prove me loyal;
I’d inundate the sky with letter’d wings
To meet thy Heart, had I the Time of Kings.
