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)
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