What I Believe

After hard days in the plaza,
Chanting the odds,
My mind is a tabula rasa.
We have strange gods.

Blinded by sunlight and soma,
Under these trees,
I knew the Lord's potent aroma.
I shell His peas.

E-mails were sent to my banker,
Retrieving my filth:
The solitary cure for world chancre
Is this, my tilth.

Mother and father and sister
Wailed. They were fools.
On every tongue lies a blister.
Here there are rules.

Counting my blessings like lentils
Swelling with pride,
I know all the soul's elementals.
And where they hide.

They showed me the sacred papyrus,
Offered me prayer.
Look at my pupil, my iris.
Vacancy there.

From Rime Present

What I Believe