Honest,

that meaningless word left dangling before children,

a damoclean sword held fast in a gordian knot tied with scarlet thread,

finer than the spider’s that once tied men’s souls to an angry American God,

birthed in Transylvania,

over the woods, and through the dale, no lie

There is a tale of lies told in Nobel houses, never reachin’ ground,

Down here, we situations manifested to, vain, again, stem the tide,

We flounder, fish out of water, why are we sent if

wait

 

he hears, he listens, haps he knows, and

how such as we came

to be here,

Welcome and see, dare ye ask me in? Might I ply you with lies

and you, believe ’em?

I could make a mindless robot out of your parts, but

that would take forever and

that’s not how

Wisdom’s child would tend to be, for first,

You must believe a lie and I, amusing as can be,

can’t tell lies.

Discernment, fine points, per-spicacity per se, the only way.

Good luck (Luc, said luck in many tongues, said Luc- as in Luc-ifer.

It means light, as in light, regular old granted light.

Lightifier, good, take some, good light, for the travail, in the night.

 

You see, not so long ago, for me, five years before I’as born,

my momma moved to town.

 

What was that like, I axed my old uncle, while back,

movin’ t’town, in 1943?

Well, he says,

We had electricity.

 

USA, 1943, some folks still was poor, and all the good men

was gone to war.

Cities, it was different,

if the movies got it right, Bowry Boys, n’em.

 

In the desert we did, okeh, in town, though,

 

we had electricity.

 

He was ten back then. He’d been huntin’ rabbit’s,

to buy Christmas presents from Sears and Roebucks,

 

since he was five.

C’mon, I say. No lie, he say,

BLM or some gover’ment

whatsajigger, was payin’ 2 cents a pair fer jack rabbit ears.

 

‘Said he bought Christmas presents for his mom and dad,

and my mom, with his first rabbit money, at five.

 

Shootin’ with a single-shot 22, 12 cents a box,

Jack Rabbits, 2 cents a head.

 

Three Christmas presents, plus postage, $2.56.

Do the math, I think, and go –

 

Five years old, at ten, he moves to town, 1943,

we had electricity. That’s all.