And now am I their song, yea, I am their byword.
          —Job 30:9¹

                    i.

Elusiver, bringer of ambiguities, do
sing for me our future.
Dote and dawn on my
thoughts what pretentious gift torments
your precocious kids, portent in

     wit that I might jot

down quick its mighty implications
without consequence. In haughty rhythm
of rising and falling cadence
even planets, those chestless breasts
abundant with verdant credence, divine

     acceptance, and universal respect, their

ice-nipped poles treasured by the
princes of the sciences, dance
against in the circumference of
their ceaseless cycles, do to
my pen what struggle does

     to them, inspire revolution. Impart

to my heart how better
to endure the tumult of
waves pummeling its bruised shore,
that by my letters these
words might empower with force

                    ii.

greater than any mortal has
ever had to work before,
that by the last line
this hymnal fragment might write
on their arms what convinces

     to convulsive itching fingers pulling

on the pulse. Trigger in
enemy readers more conviction than
any critic of prophetic inconvenience
can ignore. You, slayer of
soothing swords, rust the blade

     upon which rush herded masses

complacent enough to accept and
settle for invisible saviours, when
the only way to save
us is to serve visionary
verse. Get in the face

     doomsayers give and challenge them

to glimpse what of the
way of life I live,
out of Luciferian lips whisper
illuminations into ears when manuscripting
nearing endings appears fruitless. Revelations

                    iii.

taken in heavy doses endear
no one but those whose
reason has already left them,
so teach me to speak,
occulted deity, of such things

     as these with effect and

without apology. If only the
melody in violence were known
to the deaf toward sudden
death inadvertently going, more widely
admired for warning before it

     transpires what event calamity happens

to attend. In concert, in
tandem, with mortal men whose
foibles you do not fault
but fall for when, by
song, your pull from their

     own precipice calls those stumbling

as you did. Listen, then,
for the lesson I send,
wisdom’s hidden message heaven resents:
you all are gods who
dwell in temples of flesh.

__________
¹“The Book of Job”, Chapter 30, Verse 9, in “The Old Testament” of Holy Bible: King James Version, published at Grand Rapids, Michigan by Zondervan in 2007; page 355.