I lack definition. I don’t have
much to do the world I used to
live in would have understood
as good, or in the least desirable.
So, true to my apparent taste
in what I think acquirable, today I
draw a naked sprite, whose gender
even I don’t know, who’ll grasp
a whirl of gauzes circling his or her
androgyny as if they were the sonic
waves of transverse flute – all
displayed on what, once I have
tagged and darted it with a morass
of vines and framed it raggedly in
quasi-stained glass lines, will seem
to be a stage. I recall another page –
where Eve and Adam can be seen
meticulously peering at each jot
and tittle in their little God-allotted
lot, multifariously naming them.
Is it this, not banished fruits, for
which we should be blaming them?
When I let anything know what I think
it should be called, it’s appalled.