oriony
outside my house no idiot I
know
which way the wind blows
in winter, I turn up my collar,
walk on and ignore it
at other times reverse it
(for the sake of symmetry,
and keeping up appearance)
o my god(s), exertion,
will to knowledge, its communication
today, for instance, reading milton,
(near book four’s end,
when He pulls out His scales)
I felt him judge and find me wanting:
sadly, less-than ideal reader.
but then again: so what,
if I was born to teach a lesson?
the snot-nosed brats show up because
they have to, not because they want to;
nothing ever happens
to the people going through the motions*
(* some exceptions), therefore
make me scarce forever, lord;
and all thy bells be silent henceforth
