It was actually true—unbetrothed to wile,
that simplicity, unconditional monstrosity
of her sermon, first unheard, still unplowed,
but communities are continually at odds now
over the virtue of her existence. And so he
who was without sin cast out to sea to seek
solemnity, severity, at this news of her new
security/corruptibility. Let me stand here
and testify to beauty. To new grandiosities
of grandiloquent eloquence. To impassioned
militarist impotence, the religious’ hatred,
a prejudice I’ll parry off as the potent patty
for the sham burgerology of Our Daily Bread.
To hunger, and lust, behind a wailing creed.
Boredom. Snobbish kingdoms. Lost republics!
But the highest sin—the opinion of publics!
He devoid of evil, cast now the devil out of
the charities, please, the hotels, the civil
servants’ hells. The decade of a capacity to
know has come, thanks to you, and you, or
you, so now go! In peace! For while standing
pleas for calm are in order, peoples’ judges now
richly sit over porridge and peas. Meanwhile,
a poet broadcasts on networks of guilt these:
images that provoke masturbatory mentalities,
sure, but also braggarts’ mirages invoking
freedom from all iniquities, royalties, reports
out of wedlock, Evita’s tomatoes in Switzerland,
that pain in her womb. But all chose to judge
my virgin girlfriend’s wile, a community at odds.
May 16, 2007 - August 25, 2009
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