In Birnam Wood

Lips stuck in mock stop, O!
Crisis?  What crisis?
You say, Nothing a good bit of
Spirit and craft won’t cure.
You say, The problem with people
These days is their lack of… grit?
You say, They can’t see what
I’ve had to endure.
So fair and foul a day.

You’re tough like glass
But not unbreakable. I’ve
Seen the tears when
Your worldview falls through.
I’ve watched you sweep it clear
When truth with all its
Hard matter and fact
Threatens to crack your
Veneer.  Crazed sneer.

The wood sways.  Afraid in its fog.
What does town say?
Alarmed and armed contempt
Does come this way.

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Virtuous Circles

Shape wet clay
Into cup,
Celibate, chaste,
Effective in its revelation,
Drop by drop by drop,

Spin
Effectual, efficient,
Faithful clay.
High-principled, honest,
In its clear, transparent glaze.

Incorruptible, inculpable,
Irreprehensible soft moral mud
My noble hands, on the level,
On the up and up,
Of your tender form.

Pure,
Regular, right-minded,
Righteous, spotless, smooth,
Unsullied, untainted, clay.

Up front, upright,
Worthy, of earth and time,
Coin and milk.

How I forget myself
In these virtuous circles
Thrown and thrust.

Erosion of trust,
Kneaded and fed.

Fired,
I will carry the cup
And beg.