A Tributary In Servitude 4 Irritations of the Oyster

the waters tumble

out with armoured fists to tame a prodigal.

My country wobbles fumbles, tumbles, crumbles

My country rumbles

and my waters tumble on.

Into the waiting moulds of ruin in the woods

new airs cleave to loins on arrival— media hype for the filthy lucre.

New occupations for a mind unformed scarecrow on the banner

unholy, unworthy ex-director of slaves

Too insignificant and sinful to bear the sandals of

He

that comes after now.

Studying Da Vinci codes and the seven books of failure, oracular sorcery, the practice

of running a grocery that will fill my mouth—

My country wobbles fumbles, tumbles, crumbles

My country rumbles

and my waters tumble on.

Into the waiting moulds of ruin in the woods

finally, the egg hits the rock;

I have danced to man-made tunes slowly my feet withdraw.

Hurray for the potter foraging clay by the burrows of a crab,

who, pounding them for the wheel sighted a recalcitrant lump

and lifted it to the valve of his drum

Who, drawing from the ticktack interpreted the friction within as irritations permeating an oyster just before a pearl is born.

A force, magnetic and fanatic, invites free hands to Freedom.

The judge unbundles the language of Babel

and the mind wanders off into hermit-like exile— grieved of the mob action that lynched the Son.

O hatchling, O fledgling crack with thine feeble beak the bonds of their iron—

come taste the newness of dawn.

For none shall conquer the riddle of your myth

for honey shall nurture the contours of your smile.

Your presence, forever constant like the coming dawn all around but forever elusive,

optical illusions for the falconer.

Unsheathe your sword for sharpening for your mission

Your wears shall be lion-skin your food, wild-honey

and out of every eater that dares to roar shall you make a meal of red-fresh meat.
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Bloom O fledgling upon this totem the moonstone is anchor on this expanse of lifeless waters

Your country wobbles fumbles, tumbles, rumbles

There are many motions in the parliament of termites but none shall be law unto thine stone…

Chapter end