Oh whatever powers be
within the earth the sky or me
burst this thirsty mind of mine
into a thousand particles of being
each as a seed from the Mother Tree
to be hurled from pole to pole
across this scarred and wrinkled globe
May fragments of my burgeoning mind
fall as sponges to the seven brines
to swell themselves
on the secrets of kelp-bedded seamen
who sailed the waves on balsa rafts
and dragon headed dreaded ships
til they sank to clammy crypts
Let slivers of my minds shattered whole
converge as a horde of starving moles
on the acre whereunder Plato frowns
in his sleep as he dreams of men
The moles burrow down and feast
on the mind, once pregnant, which pearled,
shook empires and startled the world
Let me in my spirit wander
free from flesh to roam and ponder
the mystery of forgotten cities
unheralded deeds and sunken graves
unspoken thoughts and barren vales
to seek the hows and whys of life
from brooding Thoth and the satyrs fife
I would with the morning mist
ascend from throngs of frost kissed
flowers swaying on some alpine height
revelling in their solitude and waving
porcelain blossoms to greet the dawn
Oh, to view with clear unbiased eye
the truth of those that beautify
Would that I might don the cloak of night
and join the beasts beyond the light
to sit with an owl on a shadowy limb
like a feathered Buddha on his throne
run wild with jackals in search of blood
haunt the slums in the backwash of everyone’s mind
to seek the truth that I must find
Oh whatever powers be
heed this call I’ve addressed to thee
deny the rain that I may thirst
spoil the harvest that I may fast
spare neither whip nor spur
temper me with love and fire
lest I become a mirror
Poetry
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