Abecedarian Prayer
All these grand poetic ideas that
Bask in the salt sea of idolatrous
Cacophony; they swell against, they
Deluge the cranium, they wriggle like
Eels in the ear, somehow, I don’t know, they
Find their way there & down through the
Gut to the realms of emotion, sorrow,
Heartache and fear; the Moriadark where
“I”, the essence of man, echoes from the walls
Jocosely gibbering, “what is man?” -
“Kilowatts!”
“Libations!”
“Murmurations!”
Nor in the dark comes immediate answer.
“O, worm!” (evoking the vocative) he prays,
“Pray for us sinners who long for the song to
Quit this mortal sphere.”
Righteousness is but a pithy quip,
Simple for the innocent,
Terrifying for the cave dweller.
Unlike The God we evade rectitude.
“Verily, who is righteous but God alone?”
“What is man that you should grant to him a
Xiphos, keen and bright with which to free
Ygdrassil of all these grand poetic eels,
Zygons of an innocent age?”
No comments:
Post a Comment