The philosopher stone’s
transmutation into gold.
The terrain of Canaan.
Librarians in Ithaca abhorred
the chosen scholars
who were assigned to the documentation
of Odysseus & company’s adventures;
to harbours of the dead
dockyard lanyards hoisted atop
the saddled backs of wiry sea spiders
kept stationary by crustaceous commoners
Making love to the prospect of deep thought
at the bottom of the ocean
in an orgy where its natural to walk away with crabs
Long have men of the mind’s alchemy
traded Descartes for cartels
banished medicine men
to the Somalian shallows to scrub
the mines of their diamond dust
Where they inhale more
than they’re told they are worth.
What is it about geology
that spawns bloodlust
and ambition?
Are stones truly precious?
Or do they represent
men who built monuments from stone
for stone faced men
who set the legend of their lives in stone
then acquire more stone
through investments in mining
the vital extraction of the human ore
But what of the golden hunk of bronzed molasses
and honeyed oat clusters serenaded
with the bitter juices of the greater addendum
which is
the brain?
I wish to reach succulent concord
with these hands
to spread commerce
in the council halls
Turn those principles and morals
into sapphiric pools, royal blue spores
in a world populated
by mineral dependent
Cro-Magnon lunatics
their straws poised by the shorelines
Consuming,
Resuming,
The exhuming inquiry that,
A healthy mind is worth more than anything!
Take me to the island of locusts
and call to the skies for a better plague
because honestly,
I’ve given up on being resourceful these days.
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