Thursday, December 9, 2021

In the Field, Without People

You've got it all wrong, Ezra replied,
Walls embossed with ideas,
Buildings made out of words,
Statues still enough to be kissed
Are far more lasting 
Than perpetual people,
Who cackle at the first opportunity 
And will see only obligation
At elegant tables
In the first flip of light.

I may think I want, he sd,
Readings in amphitheaters,
Acolytes kneeling,
Beings who burst spontaneously 
Into lights,
But there is more in occult clubs
Who hide your name in darkened cloaks
On balconies in empty cities
And dens for secret books
Where the key maker speaks in code ...

It's the ultimate laurel
To not be worthy of the masses,
For it’s work to make the choices
Kept in libraries
And work to turn the spotlight away
To a grave,
Someone one can love
Without knowing,
Always wondering,
Never being sure.