An Ode of Sorts

(The two remaining papers will be the final chore before a return to a balanced lifestyle, and I'm looking forward to it.)


Man measuring heads
Hovers over a knife with a steak
Quivering jaw on fat knife stalling
Sawing on, 'I saw, I taste, I
Analyse; I
Am man measuring heads well (by
The men measuring heads).
I, yes, probe little skulls-
Know what they say? I can't say,
But know: humans are sad little things,
My little onions to peel,' and
Gulps he his predictably sweet tea.

Sawing steak, sipping tea, - but not from Olympus?? Lo, now
Descended, he holds our pitiful little spheres in his encompassing head:
Every galaxy is precise and precisely spaced;
Space itself is lined precisely-
Patients and faces, sterile placards
(The catfooted smothering of the void arriving no worry).

He slipped his list out at lunch;
I saw his today to do list:
-
(1) Distill mysterium
(2) Get coat lined
(3) Line universe

Cross-armed with bulging keys,
Ogling in Id his next act of soul cannibalism,
Gnawed he a steak in no
Straight jacket, so
Methinks he is wearing the sleeves
We beware in our closeted hearts all along.


-Rick