We Are the Stardust Men

We Are The Stardust Men Dedicated to T.S. Eliot We are the stardust men, the wayward stardust catching men, dalliances of mind and shadow occur openly, As we have cast off our anchors And await the tidal sway, The open expanse of deep landscape, Beckons the siren call. We are the seeing men, the blind far-sighted beauty-seeking tin men; repercussions of old laws and rituals, like drowning petrels, hundreds of them, dot the landscape. Where, oh where in the excrement of human habitation, the many-layered strata of ham-fisted movements did we fall out of our fantasies, like stones from the shallow well. We are the stardust men, looking for an atomic biscuit. We are the rocky and mortar men, Made of skin and water and fear; Ham-fisted soul searchers, dressed in layered strata, The stardust men, Wrapped in haze and cloud, As smoke wafting upward, streaming outward, Unlike the tides clockwork geared up and locked in, the conditioned we, breaking free, Leaping out of the trees; We are the blue-sky looking men, the running free, cloud-seeking breathing men, out to find brazen perfumes in the stunted dooryard, out to seek other floral arrangements in the embrace. We are the stardust catchers, The brazen thumb tappers upon lost trellises, All nets and hooks, attempting to catch an elusive ambiguity.