Burning

I ache for just a flake of your concern,
Uncertain of unstoppable events
That crowd the calendar. If time relents,
Even for one short moment, and we turn
To find a fox concealed, fire in the fern,
The queen and her pool boy under the tents,
And consternation on the continents
Nearest the sun, what burnished swords will burn?

You say the swords will melt? No, heightened heat
Will chase the chased steel for eternity
Into oblivion, obligingly,
From this our moral universe of meat
Into a dream of nothing, drive a street
To nowhere. Know my new identity.

Magic Beets

You spent your money on the magic beets,
No beans being on offer. They looked great,
So why not plant them by the eastern gate
Next to the lettuce? There were deli meats,
Potato salad, cole slaw, sticky sweets,
And dreams of borscht. We set the orange crate
Next to the picnic table, and we ate,
Thinking of magic in the unpaved streets.

Did Jack the Giant-Killer pass this way,
Distributing that nouveau-riche largesse
And preening in his new-bought fancy dress?
Don't tell him you have magic beets. Just say,
"Thanks for the dough, Jack!" Courtesy will pay;
Let us not live our lives in bitterness.

Clam

Depressed once, now I'm happy as a clam,
A throbbing mass of bubbling delight
As pure as sunshine is, and twice as bright.
Once dry, I have indulged in a wee dram,
I've huffed a spot of glue and smoked a gram
Or two of fine sludge, and engaged the might
Of other stimulants. I feel just right,
Exploring what I think and who I am.

I am my introspective intellect,
My deepest true emotions. Is my soul
A topless tower, or a seamless whole
That sings where universes intersect?
When E. M. Forster wrote, "Only connect,"
Did he mean this? Oh, man, I'm on a roll!