Tuesday, June 16, 2020

The Library Years

I left the world of the mind
     For that of the flesh,
Where they counter what I do
     Not what I say.
The wind blows easy from the sea
     Today.
The house is quiet. The animals
     Are asleep.

The money will be counted whether or not
     I speak.
The people listening in hear people
     Not ideas,
They reach for the tangible
     In my words
Between responsibilities
     For the unexamined world.

Down the road not taken, ancient myth
     Is scissored up like dolls
And hung out on strings like flags
     Or thumbs.
The pressure becomes too great to be responsible for
     The lies history told
By stoically telling more, in the full and innocent
     Facility of mind.

Once I turned ideas like Zeus hurled bolts,
     Weighing, pruning, combining,
Finding the harmonies to make the upward lines
     Sing
And align with a higher frequency. In my dreams,
     The record was corrected
As though I was there, my desire alone
     Brought the light forward.