Journeyman, apprentice, what's a guild after all
but something of a nest
where fledglings learn even from mutual jostling:
squawking aloud to, at and for each other,
discovering, at best, the very jesses
by which we are bound.
And to what do we aspire?
Guild Master
Rituals & Virtue
Sermons a Specialty
also Clever @ Comforting
Let a cracked and crazy shingle go a-slapping in the wind. Back to jostling -
a necessary warm and gooey trampling
in befoulment
where, finally,
we may examine with renewed eyes
our own fundaments.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem