Restorations

Still the Gentile

Still a gentile,
I say goodbye

And flee
To wilderness,
Escape mankind

Woe this city
Full of faux wilderness,
swallows, trees, and all.
Besides, a well ridden
Dustman, named Joachim,
Became proprietor roiled
Of the disparaging peat rim.
Through a duster’s style
Does he not repair seed
Left behind indeed by
fully leavened gentiles?

Large numbers, droves,
Th’ big city proves.
Create collective science
Stranger than fiction prose.

Emerge anyway heroes, Who
Boys and girls playin'
Follow close the game,
Neve’mind their names,
Wi’ rules e’en to their graves
Bad seed, up to speed
Relentless in faux wild
Just knaves, the same,
Brought to their knees
Final rest where the dust pile leaves.

That is my detail
From road of denial
Wise as me, still the gentile.


April 23, 2007