So much to learn, so much to know,
So many places we can go,
The future and the past combine,
Into a thing human – divine –
So much to see, so much to hear,
A world, once far away, that’s near,
So much to feed a heart and brain,
While we still dwell on what’s mundane
catch a spate of flying dreams,
hold them for a feathered rest,
tell the moon to send its beams,
call the sunbirds to their nest,
give no thought to fears arising,
nor to conscience terrorizing,
just stay
a day
and dream the tears you had away.
run in circles, walk in place,
lay a hand upon a brow,
draw out past the edge of trace,
find the “why” that births the “how”
give no thought to what is coming,
nor the echoes of lost drumming,
mistakes
and breaks
just know you now have what it takes
Whatever else may swell the human race,
A marketplace remains a marketplace,
As one who needs or wants finds one who’ll send,
And all of it’s just tradeoffs in
The end
in jeweled
patterns, colors all,
a stopping place for druther —
for beauty is its own excuse,
it really needs
no other
The unread books
In the bargain pile,
People passing by,
Their eyes ahead,
Onto other things
Bound to satisfy.
The unread tales
Of the bargain pile,
Stacked and priced to go:
The life of waiting
Just for a glance,
That is one
I know
What should we use for
License and permission?
The capital’s now shut to
Our ambition —
The powder reeks
Of avarice and spice;
An aftershock
Of smoothly-covered vice —
A smothering of
Cabinets and lust,
A bit of happiness
Ground into dust,
A spatter and a slather
And a skein
Of words of populism
Turned
Insane
memories
are made of lamps
that once hung in the living room
a little light
and shadows cast
in ways to break and ease the gloom
a shopping trip
a purchase made
a choice decor that's bought and stays
a memory
an aging lamp
a thing we love but seldom
think to praise
In songs of spice and hue
In markets fair to view
In camera and shield
In stall, and bush, and field
Where magic traces shine
Where eyes can drink and dine
Where majesty makes haste
In color
Spice
And taste
The marketplace
Is waiting for its
Lover;
The crowd
It welcomes into its
Embrace —
The emptiness,
The fullness, and
The in-between:
The cycles of our hearts,
Our stores,
Our race
(… as in “human race”… – Owen)
