What I Believe

After hard days in the plaza,
Chanting the odds,
My mind is a tabula rasa.
We have strange gods.

Blinded by sunlight and soma,
Under these trees,
I knew the Lordís potent aroma.
I shell His peas.

E-mails were sent to my banker,
Retrieving my filth:
The solitary cure for world chancre
Is this, my tilth.

Mother and father and sister
Wailed. They were fools.
On every tongue lies a blister.
Here there are rules.

Counting my blessings like lentils
Swelling with pride,
I know all the soulís elementals.
And where they hide.

They showed me the sacred papyrus,
Offered me prayer.
Look at my pupil, my iris.
Vacancy there.

From the book Rime Present