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Ode To My Bookshelf
Unite under the sign of resistance!
Oppose the capital that lies just to the right.
Below its dense foundation
Under cleverness and googleable blips
And fantasies of mind and matter, find
A fragment of a memory horse, unbroken
But for evaporating time, left shriveled.
It’s probably not one of a kind anymore.
Ride through that horse’s forest,
Through the pitfalls of the lovers
Of Sophia and Anthropos,
Through two eons, each proclaiming,
Utmost virtue and devotion.
(If the second were the better known
We might be better off.)
Alright,
Tasted the gauntlet of morality?
Turn around, and try your spurs at sin, this horse can ride
For love’s forever, like sonnet 55,
Go on! There’s naught to fear but void,
And what’s so fearsome about that?
Perhaps you’re right.
Then forget! Descend!
Then you can laugh at the past.
So chortle full of alcohol and walk, you horseless man,
Out from the ministry, and into the minds of millions
‘Only millions?’ laughs the man with the white beard,
‘Hah! You’ll go down and forget yourselves like all the rest,
Don’t hurt your eyes trying to look up at us.’
Well, that’s ineffability, and you think that
If he’s so bleedin’ great, why doesn’t he just
Let Everyone Know and end it all, no need for the rest of us.
But that’s the point, isn’t it?
You are like me. Silently,
Ever so silently begging
To be opened up.
And as much as the horse Tries
Pulls
Against its everyone’s imagination reins
Its brain-tongue wagging
For the fire where the alcohol was forged
It skitters, I slip
My hooves slip on the googleable blips,
And dance a silly walk than no one’s ever seen,
Because what rocking horse has hooves, anyway?
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