Saturday, September 18, 2010

Where Is the Scholar

Teach me the ridicule of what is. Please

sir there is a nothing poor even in sense
of its nothingness in me, and I found

a scrap escaping the whirling wicker
basket of my head with the word beloved

written on it. Please

sir I thought I saw you say
something to the foolish that made them smile

and I wanted to be there but I turned
away, shamed, great men

prodding and pulling me away,
dropping stones.

I know ash only,
and scattered shadows,

and shadows scattered,
and ash.

But you! hearing even Legion’s cause;
I am in awe. One who

loved a man empty and covered with demons and even
the demons within him

might have been telling truth.