Imitations of Comedian as the Letter C by Wallace Stevens:
The World with Imagination Nota: man’s intelligence rests in the soil, The treeless bud. As such, it potentiates greatness, Desiring to surpass those whose roots On which it sits. Sed quaeritur: How do we, As gardeners, face the floods and the toxins, Find the answers that stem the seed, make a branch? Those men at sea may brave the way, Though Crispin’s elm is incomplete. Our goal is not the berry’s taste but the berry’s Mix, not the soldier’s tool but the swordsman’s Craft. It is not found within the corn itself But rather resting on a pigeon’s wing as it drifts Along a draft. It dabbles alongside the porpoise At sea or nestles with the bear in its cave, But never does it rest in sprout’s reach, Instead of on the Earth it is miles away. One eats one seed, whether bird or worm be. It is not so much the aggressor’s crime, but the terrestrial nature of unwandering minds which harbors the end of discovery. To combat such aims, Crispin’s path is available To all who find the courage to disrobe of dirt, facing Vulnerability in the sunlit plain. This act, uncertain From the outset, finds kernel drifting on airy waves, Subject to element and predator alike. Our seed may fly As far as mind can see, but farther flight ends With inopportunity—in the disappearance of the breeze On which our hopes ride north. Vision leads to fall, To a new soil, to Crispin’s destination. Seed is left Replanted but unachieved, our mission for wing, Or fin, or paw not seen through. Yet revel In Crispin’s story, do not end without satisfying Resolution. The pain resounds, remnant of our descent From imagination. In that sorrow the lover falls, The beggar begs, and the maker chooses If his sprout will show. Where there lacks a road, A gust may lead the way, so long as man In his folly, lets nota be note. |
The Crow’s Folly Shall the piercing eye of the crow See only that which casts a gleam? One as black as soot should understand The façade adopted by its metals, A twinkling that masks the nature And draws foci from commodities to that Perceived as such. In this deception The greatest peril is the induced ignorance Of a view that may gaze at all while seeing None which holds true value in a world Of tarnished treasures. How do those With broader visions convince the crow Of its delusory criteria and imbue worth to that which should be viewed with desirability In the mind of the bird? The simplicity And overt nature of polished substances Blind the seeker and as follows blind those After him who seek to imitate his neglect. The danger draws from the power of flight; If crows maintained terrestrial dominance, Planting their ignorance where it remains inert, The magnitude of effect would be inconsequential To the collection of those who seek the crow’s Trinkets for their own. It is in the drafts Of the atmosphere where the possibility Of dissemination remains viable, though it is Not the crow’s being that breeds care in those On the landscape. Rather, the crow’s actions-- Erroneously considered beneficial by the bird-- Are perceived and digested by craned necks That endorse the misguided appraisal Of a ring over a twig. Application is not given The same thought as the artificial price Heaved onto an item made to be latent. Sed quaeritur: shall the faulty habits of the crow be met With change and adaptability, or will we, the lookers, Be forced to find new enlightenment Disparate from the fowl which plague our minds? |