what lesson

are you playing truant from now?
she asks—with your ever-present air
of intense superiority—

not truancy—he says—but in contemplating
the exquisite atmosphere in your tale
I am defeated for want of a key—

across my vision (there it is again)
silhouetted against the blue
of the sparkling sea    a warm caress…

but I am without its definite layout
or even name; my precious hours
that were always full of content

now peer out of musty windows
and after our idle exchange of glances
I stare with mouth wide open

my big chair is empty and I shall not
go now into the forest—you said that here
all the inmates came from noble families…

but what when we talk of Hell—the complete
& final loss of reality and know
there are still plenty of fish in the river?

 

 

*

 

there’s one way

and another way
and a third way
of doing things; but it’s useful
to think of doing things

otherwise as the Master said in line with
what (gazing at the bridge of his nose)
his grandmother told him:
in life never do as others do;

either do nothing—
just go to school—or do something
nobody else does
and promptly died…

this my children
and children’s children
is what I would have you
take inside your uttermost being:

never go along with the herd;
never copy others; let your uprush
of learning be your very own
never dependent on others