What a crappy poet I’d be if I scammed
and after sampling the really nasty bits
didn’t feel up making my deposition.
Because this could happen, don’t go halfway,
daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, inspire
in me a poetry that doesn’t concede
the benefit if the doubt, that scrapes together
profound thoughts and enables this our world,
so inscrutable, to seem transparent.
That like a key in a lock can open doors
to a quickening wind as well as the laundry room.
That like an expansive wave extends its reach
o’er hill and dale.
Megalomaniac
Greek muses, clarify what must be done
so as to fix in incontrovertible words
the aesthetic principle of landscapes
and days with dawns and dusks
and nights with moons and penumbras
and, even so, the spectacle of the populace
and urban areas in disarray
and the sorcery of modern societies.

Instead of watching television
or standing around with your hands in your pockets,
don’t abandon my plan and give me the nerve
to grasp the wonders of life.
Now I’ll descend the stairs that lead outside
and not worry about letting anybody down.