vendredi 16 avril 2010

Generations of Gods

1. Delight of Lacking Particulars

Peeps the same age
Resemble each other that much
It is moving. Deeply stirred, if you are up to
Pierce their garb en passant and then sweep the jolly gang:

See? Naught but slightly shaded complexions and, from
Lot to lot, appendages a trifle bit chunkier or lankier.
How come, y’all aren’t siblings, are you? – Cluster
Same age, concourse of coevality, one pull date.

Expediently, life has rabbled them together
After sorting, so they can be eyed up at one go.
Very instructive. For these aren’t individuals – You
Are, since nowhere one your age seems caught inside...

But they aren’t. Mere gamuts of mood and
Assorted limbs, they are intellect’s raw material.
Glory to Father Cronus who is barfing out agewise
By copy numbers, to unscramble and single none out!

2. Refreshingly Wider of the Mark

They quite often commence on a soapbox.
Their timely babble is commonplace.
Young, tense, handsome and penniless, they’re simply promising.
Ember eyes. Give ’em a chance. They are
Ludicrous, they are just fine to replace the ancient godheads
For we aren’t in theocracy, we are democrats, always were
We choose wired youth over senectitude, it is a sheer
Question of generation. We need change.

When a son god devours, when he batters and smites
Emasculating with a sickle, man may wonder
About the changes involved. What will it bring
For the believer? He better worship this lad, period.
Fortunately, if such savior – devoid of any Greek vice –
Does not unman but confirm, still taking the sting out of his
Hoary Sire, tooth for tooth belittling in return for the bother
He durst impose upon him, sport’s forsooth more incarnate with

Believing in an even younger god is even cushier.
Exceptional thin-skinnedness and casual rioting usually
Suffice, fellah. – Representation forbidden or not: the more
Fresh-faced thine Almighty, the more self-evident thy prostration.
As long as adolescent beauty, they’ve the Law with them; they
May lay hands on the old and worn and re-testament at
Leisure, ’t is a win-win for all parties. Oh, ye coeval bystanders to
Olympian bust-up: at each new revelation, a tweak to gawkers’

3. Tube Coda

You’d bump into them underground, wherever.
Gods are everywhere. They
Especially enliven the underworld.

That bird nesting inside a poky hollow –
How come it still feels able to stir?
No claustrophobia, Chirpy, after
All this heaven? Now so utter a murk.
It keeps hatching in a womb.

Brain is where you’d encounter them.
Subway, down there, belowground.
Reminiscence of heaven
These dicky-birds. Or
Of a dark
Secure past.

I can’t think of any other desires.

April 5 - 16, 2010

Aucun commentaire: