Six Bells

gutenberg pressed
man’s vainest folly
to the empire’s breast
lunatics and liars thought
thus they were blessed –
but the word of creation
is in the spurt and sizle
of the fireplace log
as one over-thumbed bible
turns to silver ash

the elephant, the puppy
the tiger, the lemon tree
        these are words of divinity
infant, granite
sirocco, planet
          these are words of divinity
eyebrow, cumulous
silica, watercress
           these are words of divinty
heresy, inquisition
fatwa, incarceration
entrance fee, keep out
Sunday collection, impoverishment
           these are words of humanity

gutenberg is not god
type is not truth
ink is not lymph or blood
or even urine –
print this and know
print is mere opinion –
and of course that goes
as well for the koran

even if a semi-angel
like van morrison
claims he has a home
up high, know he is
voicing a universal desire
not insider information –
be grateful you have a home here!
and share in such a way
that none are without shelter!

seven billion crouched
like frogs on rugs
or simply on bended knee
would only convince me
of how lazy and stupid
the human race really is.
Wishin’, hopin’ and prayin’
is the way that leads
away from Eden.


I speak for the possible god
of endless evolutions
and joy in living creation
not frozen ready-made
impossible solutions.
I speak for the puma
and the waterfalls she surveys,
for the dawn of sanctified days
where the speechless toddler crawls:
your rigid rusty earth-bound dogmas
are – always and invariably – heresies.




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