Seventeenth Hour
As though by nature I bestow
sons to the future’s arms
and hoping for calm winds
and soft rain-clouds I watch him
unable to grasp the point
of wholeness the holy division
emerges and what was one
becomes myriad defining
the whole from its elements
multitasking multinationals
yet the whole commits
itself in defined places
where each hair underscores
importance of the cosmos and a
little creek equals almighty
ocean concepts posturing
before the light when suddenly
the beam diffuses a chiaroscuro
genesis of tragedy
and the most treasured secret
handsomely bleeds through cracks of
moral social order remodeling
dogmas and aphorisms
yet aging thoughtful Death
sends His squires to round up
hyacinth orphans
hermaphrodite meadow flowers
and attempts to mend
the pistil psyche
anther of straight stamen
ovules refuse to copulate
asking ‘why?’ and divided pleats
answer in sterile unison:
who cares?
Libros Libertad 