SORTA RAN

"This is the latest noose, folks,
hot off the presses..."

Dogs are such sonnababitches, frightening you
into a Run! and then chasing you for running

barking out, "God is nuts!" or such nonsense... "Knowledge
is Th'Key that springs Th'Door away from all human despair!"

or points upon the forgotten turquoise & hilarity almost
a hysteria Why do we shun Th'Homeless? Why do we

walk on the opposite side of the street when we see them coming?

Dogs are such, unmuzzled amongst the muffled shufflings
of Man at his moment like a patchwork, Why do we shun

those bums all stoned amongst our intonations Thanksgivings

to The Great Spirit floating saffron upon such frosts
O almost plausible above our stingy lots, imitating
th'capstone concepts like Wisdom towering in Th'Ambiguous

icicles the syllables of Scorn grinding our bones
in the general silence of our great Song Why do we shun
the baby wakeful in the hungers of his long, torn & distorted,
staring upon The Sun through eyelids of Th'Tragic

why do we shun its sinking & rising Meaning like a tomb

ramparts against the unstable immense, we the austere,
the inviolable angels that do not wilt in the Night, we

torches burning themselves over dark altars
of Progress, of Human Rights, we unmovable mountains
migrating through Time, magics our margins, wombed

in Th'Wonder of Mind, big enough
yet to abide even th'blemishes of Beauty

upon our Universe-shaking Cosmic
Purpose! the immaculate self-light, Why do we shun

the ignored, the ragged & starving, the
wretched, the poor? bulging with noises in the anon

we try to drown their high-strung, thin but eternal
voices all Th'Day long

mouthing with our mocking in th'crackling lulls, we
the dreadful dewdrops upon the cheek

of Th'Sun--sopped up by the threadbare eyes of
the wretched! and almost made whole in their besmirching
eyelashes, Why do we shun

the homeless, the weakened, the hopeless, the
lost?... why do we run them out of town (because

they were not born here
or because they are our sons?) forbid them our
homes?... Why should we broom away the oceans

at our shores lapping the Soul
with its slender slanders, laughters
of irrelevance for anyone, anything empty enough to hold
it all in

O the Imagination's a beautiful bird
indeed, testing and tasting, touching
upon th'dripping wild evangelisms of
Th'Spring, why do we

anguishingly wing from their unceasing
Sight?! like vultures we soar

the unheard-of heights... (to keep a sharp eye
on where they are--where they're
coming from?)... Why do we

build them holes & then order them there-in
to hide?... Dogs are such sonnaba

just as they are sometimes
apt to imitate some fresh butchered carcass for our
hungry eyes, O like some cool misunderstanding

lying there perfectly upon the harmless
bleaching under The Light

all the while harboring for the innocent amongst us
an unfriendly odor for our innocents caught
by their own curiosities, why is it

we shun the defenseless, the numbed

Specters that haunt our consciences

(as if only to make certain
we carry some), why do we shun

them?... the streetpeoples--Because they threaten
our safe homes? as weak as they go
& vanish when they see us come? ...

Why do we shun the deprived
like we keep out of sight, out of reach of
our creditors

O why do we shun
The Deprived amongst us (like
we owe them something!)