An idea begins to form
Like a sky scraper prickling the airs
Inside so calm at moments
And so utterly strenuous
...
Alas a grumbling encroaches
Exuberantly
And electronically
From the blinking blare box
...
Quid pro quo;
My mind for my words
I see that I shall
In this life
...
The vault whereto always proceed
The robbed of their Reality,
By Time revolving in the sky,
Revoking the immutate eye.
...
Oh mother of all things, design alate,
Enlivening the flesh of every form
With will, the surging light of mortal fate:
The movement on the waters and the storm.
...
You kernel of apocalypse, you blight,
You spider spinning webs of blackest twine;
In enervated motion you delight,
To taste aborted acts is your design.
...
You stone of fire smoldered in the kiln
Of conscience, where a blacksmith cranks and storms
And crafts for every movement of the will
A correspondingly metallic form.
...
You magnified disaster of the brain
Descending from the justice of the soul,
The stern decree of conscience - half the bane -
When wed to contemplation seals the whole.
...
To fools who fly Confederate Flags
And hollar rebel yells,
Standing only in rotten hallways
Slaves unto themselves.
...
Ode to the american school,
bending branches to fit their mold,
...