High Noon At Harvard Yard

Tis the late June day Which bring flocks Their subconscious intentions Obfuscated by the lingering dimensions Flaccid ideals and breezes Traversing gingerly through The ancient elms Seeded by the pulps of history They pray, with each scrape Of their prescient footsteps For the sparkle, the brilliance Those ghostly matters provide in perpetuity The heat emanating from yearnings Executed by minute's drive From understandings siloed In the labyrinth of mind's eye and virtue Bless us, grand tome Executor of fine minds and savages Vanquish, release us into the Banal confines heretofore begging To improve and congeal For the worlds remote Need the godliness The opaque permissive rain Quenching thought to act Towards probable endings Splendid imperatives Preserved for those Who wish to partake. (6/24/08)