They don't know what it means
To share this bewildering fame!
Truly, our tongues will flow and flow often.
Look! Even now, this kissery lifts us,
Engorging each spectacle suppressed
By lexicographers and sneaky pups.
Break the walls! Stretch your legs!
We will have our Century or Two
or Three. Send for us when needed;
We shall speak on everyone's behalf, fair friends
Of daring, of depths, and delighting to come.
It has the proper format, the proper power
of a noon sung psalm.
We children of the imploring when?
asked to ask, and ask again
what will a proud will never allow?
Watch a son of song with a kind face
ignite envy in stately men
who plan a calendar’d embrace
with ease-filled futures, and ill-kept vows.
The women heavy with canceled longing
have misplaced their perfect tears somehow--
still these plants make
a garden of themselves
and with the one true crown, crown.
For my father read me tales of elves,
laid in bed with me,
a father sent from eternity for me
who took off the shelves for me
pages flash-dipped in the real imaginary
the stuff hearts hold in books
with magic rings, wizards horrible
and beautiful things,
Nathan Woods, editor/overlord