Understudy --

take me down where the hard water sings

and we can all recognize each other

before it's too late -- luminous lapidaries of delight

succumb to Reason before the Night is Over

(or at least it seems that way)

We will await You with a Stern aspect and

certain limited Notions of Shame and Deliverance; it

is here in these back alleys that we are Arrested

by the Seizure of Spirit in young bodies

shooting venom in their Veins -- the dirt

roads our only way

in and out of the city the old men sitting on a stoop

smoking cigarettes and squinting in the full Sun

Gypsies selling herbs, men in iron masks

begging recognition in the dusk -- our

hope is dazed

we Know it -- We cannot yearn for more, there

is only a ringed diminution of Self here, a

dusty poet biding his time

until the next verse wearing out synonyms

and bruising metaphors with sullen disregard; this

is what you can sing, what

remains to be Said, junctures, blessings, hate, all

in one Round, resolving a curtained mockery we

strain to hear

in this Vague inheritance of Wisdom

or Neglect -- What

have we Glimpsed without

knowing it?

(Is there a guide in these backwaters, here

where snakes slip away unnoticed?)

Pushing past naked bodies into the Rock

we cut seams and stitch routes to the outback swallowing

our Pride and yielding to Youthful Promise --

*