Monday, November 30, 2015


The Cyclops in the anteroom is waiting for
his dinner : he tries playing cards and checkers
for to pass the time, but knows he cannot see.
Depth perception is lacking, I think the problem
was. And how do you do that anyway, one big eye?
Does it still use a comb in the tumbling mornings?
I remain aloof from such nascent physical problems  -
if I have a dead arm, or an organ going bad, or something
growing where it shouldn't, I'd rather, please, I didn't
know. My distractions aren't earthbound so much as
flying high. Walking the path-field of ancient stars.
Finding the symbols of rectitude and right on the
field-strewn rubbles of enmity and battle.
There are those  - and, yes, I have seen them  -  who'd
not approach a burning altar where people are dying
just because is was the 'place of' some God. A useful
key, one selection among a hundred, but you need
first know the lock. Yes, you need first know the lock.

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