The tears should have been golden
We could have shared a fond idea
Instead of wasting our reserves in theoretical consultation

But all of our expressions
Mere triangle-1 PETE
Spuriously interchangeable

The shapes of green soldiers
The Kevlar-coated gladiators
The ecstasies of tactic and kill-ratio

Can we not weep together
Can we not agree on that much
Or are we prevented by the iron-clad doctrines

And what lies behind the seeming-durable exterior
The soft metallic-looking plates that corrode
But never fully dissipate

Enamored of the armatures
We neglect the gelatinous organism
The permeability of a frog

Dazzled by our tower of plastic
That stretches to the highest heaven
And strikes not dumb but glutting in spoken cacophony

Thereby drowning the opportunity
For a single instance
Of the aha-recognition

One party devoted to the mechanisms of history
Another devoted to the mechanical operation of the spirit
Both confusing numerals with infinite number

We tread upon far planets because we must
We must employ the latest invention
We must sustain the lust for dominion

The genie’s out of the bottle again
Another genie another bottle
Another bout of deadly wishes

And thus a universe of unmasterable indeterminacy
Of a lonely neutrino
Amid the one life within us and abroad

No ideas but in things they say
But what is a thing
What somebody says it is I guess

This magnolia casts up offspring
From its sickly fecund roots
Which tree is the tree

Or maybe I’m wrong
And seeds sprung where they fell
And root and bole alone but never soil

I cannot justify this paltry mumble
In the plaza of great actions
And innumerable speeches

I cannot bring myself to formal exercise
Nor can I bring myself to weep alone
And thus the silly unintelligible madrigal

The tears should have been frankincense and myrrh
We could have forgone the histrionic polymers
I should have clad myself in blissful silence