Till Virgil Weeps

              

  Till Virgil Weeps

Breached not by midnight till midnight fails,

Beached, you wait the morrow’s little light,

Being first to hear the calling and the

Squalling and the bawling of the crazy

Creatures: messengers of night

Chaste at midnight till the escort sails

You chase desire through empty rooms

All leased by an elfin man who laughs

At the wants that vanish as you grasp

At maps of gray-green coombs

Awake at midnight till midnight sleeps

You keep your vigil till Virgil weeps,

Till lines of poetry waver and blur

Borne away on memory’s stream

Substituted by lush, deep-rooted

Water plants that wash your dream

                        •••

There in the Temple in shafts of light

The crude carved face, the monster grace

The rush of sound, the sacred mound

There on the Highlands the ancient site

Where bartered power, rule and right

Hide naked howls of vanished wants

In galleries hung with warriors’ vaunts

There in the Jungle the wondrous taste

Of flowering sleep, the cactus paste,

The ancient brew, the tribal taunts,

The chosen few from blasted haunts

Enlightened so by visions three
All that the inner eye could see
Of chuntering chants and ancient rites,
Parasites leaching subsistence
For potent existence
From reason and right

You, human, run your human race

From the priest whose face

Twisted and sang,

Sanguine with grace

Puma priest whose

Mouth grew fangs

Who paid the price

Who davined thrice

Who said the Mass

Who blessed the rice

Who made the world safe

For sacrifice

•••

Salute dharma

Mind intact

Body armor

Sealed like fact

Exchange birds’

Spirit words

Avian chants

For monkey rants

Now forswear

Walking on air

Levitation’s

Masked elation

Nevermore

Walk on water

Heretofore

Honor matter

Biblical delusions

Founder

Like Medusa’s raft;

Captains of lost illusions –

Found –

Pilot hovercraft

On the beach

Bright as song,

Lofted wings

Nothing wrong

                                                     On the deck

Silences requiting

Break of day

Letter writing

Letters sent in envelopes

As red as the blood

They would have had

For the greater good

            •••

Morphing,

Invisible,

Nano-clocked,

Terraforming,

Risible,

Future-shocked:

                                                     The Galactic News

“New Prometheus

Steals Tomorrow”

“Minotaur-killer Theseus

Decodes

The RNA of Sorrow”

“Accidental Tourist

Has Fun on the Sun”

“Providential Purist

Takes Time on the Run”

“Accidental Tourist Says:

Run, Lolita, run”

“Run from Bankers and Jurists

Run from Fathers and Suns”

•••

That old roll of film in your pocket

Is undeveloped Truth

Evidence of the life you lived:

Incontrovertible proof

Proof of life

A reading

Of your vital signs:

Your part in earthly

Joy and strife

In breeding

And in the seeding

Of destiny’s designs

Your uncontrolled life

Made testable

As the hypothesis of any experiment,

However rodential its subjects,

However detestable

•••

A rush of wings,

Time’s Jaguar now

Roars in the Future with

Future Perfect in tow

Not the only time

Your shoulder is brushed

By wings reviving signs

Of the cults time crushed

Cults of men who deify wily wives,

Turn girls into princesses

And give small boys too great a prize

Making legends of their lives

Mothers they idealize
Mothers whose rippling shadows –

Thousands of slipping silken shawls –

Gently fall

                   Cover all

Darkening the deepening pools

Of young girls’ wondering eyes

                       

•••

But all unworthy of sainting

And disregarded by sin

Singing or writing or painting

Doors swing wide when you walk in

Surely

You will keep your wits about you

Life won’t want to live without you

You shall

Own no rooms

Nor mirrors of slate

You shall

Survey coombs

Invent your fate

Leaving magic spells behind

You shall

Free the captive mind

You’ll turn away

Just in time

From winking Madonnas

In their prime

From soldier priests

Whose names you know,

From crumbling walls of Jericho

•••

Emerged at last

From the tortuous maze

You’ll set aside your

Book of Days

You’ll gently close

Your Book of Hours

Breathe the air

Smell the flowers

Freed from mental flattening

– Barely affected –

From pacing right then left

Through a linear maze

You will find yourself

Amazed

To see your full blown image

Vectored and projected

Not idealized:

Realized

Lively ascension

In three or four

Richly scored

Dimensions

As Life uncoils

Like the time-lapse tale

Of one glorious humming

Blooming Rose

                                                     Enclosed

                                                     In amber-hued

Ambient light

You will need

No Special Training

In Insight