2.
Don’t speak to me of
ambition. Wraiths who
tried first to seduce,
then rape, enslave, and
sell this green all, screaming
circle above my head a-
bout where Sputnik
lived: dead lips ravenously
seek dead lips, rotten tongues en-
twine, dry eyes ache for
tears to shed for
lost glory, fame, power, and dollars.
They thought—think!—they’d
won everything only
(watch me strut!)
to find at the moments
of parting they’d lost, big-
time. Don’t then speak to
me of heaven, or
protection, but
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rather of mere, un-
divined balance:
le monde juste. Rivers
meander and flow,
meander and flow.
No secret. They show
all. They know all. Wisdom
writ largest for
easy viewing from the
tops of mountains, satel-
lite orbits even, and
for the especially ad-
venturous, your
handy nearby
galactic edge where
rivers take a somewhat
different form, but
flow they do, still
evermore.
Amen.continue >>
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