AN
ESSAY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING
Innocence
is the absence of experience,
while
virtue is one’s nature but honed and nurtured.
So
is sin: it starts within, grows through practicing.
Even
Locke needed both chalk and a slate to mark.
CONFESSIONS
Everyone’s
a politician
and
everyone’s a journalist,
and
none of us has inhibitions.
But
we all have our tales to twist.
I
went to see my physician
in
her office inside my tomb.
For
practice, she writes out prescriptions
just
to kill the kids in their wombs.
My
preacher makes his confession
to
the girls who are blonde and young.
He
lays on his hands, as his mission,
and
exhibits his gift of tongues.
Professors
write dissertations
in
order to hide all the facts.
And
if you want real information
--oh
well, you needn’t even ask.
The
lawyers brand themselves hired guns.
They
court the richest criminals,
who
transfer to them ill-gotten funds
to
lie as far as laws allow.
I
said I’d fill that thin co-ed
who
said she hungered for new verse,
but
she still starves though I’m her poet
and
she’s swallowed my Complete Works.
Was
Jesus tacked to an easel
so
Romans could paint him later?
They
staged the acts of the apostles
just
to build wings for their theatres.
And
everyone had truth to twist
til
they convinced me I was cured.
But
when I asked, my psychiatrist
sneered,
“Why no, I’m not even bored.”
DOWSER
Once
I was proudly regarded
as
the foremost geographer of You:
I
surveyed the careful typography
as
I mapped your features anew,
measured
each promontory
and
charted every defile.
Many
times I plumbed for your treasures
and
glad continued my earthy research.
And
I knew I could move
my
stretched willow out
and
discover sweet waters below.
But
now I live in exile from You.
And
now that your landscape is gone
I
find – it was not your true geomancy
I’d
learned. For though I’m sure
I
discerned your well
I
could never divine the source.
PROPERTIES
I
wanted only a life unmortgaged--
how
many stories I would furnish!
When
I took hold of my time, my mansion,
I
didn’t know how still I’d be transient.
PERSISTENT RELEVANCE OF ETYMOLOGY
When the bards composed a song,
did they know where duan came from,
what it meant in older tongues?
Sacrifice!
Damage! And Cost!
--and
one synonym for Feast!
Poetry,
present and past,
synthesizes
joy and loss.
Duane Vorhees is an American poet living in Thailand. Before that, he taught University of Maryland classes in Korea and Japan. Hog Press, of Ames, Iowa, has published three of his poetry collections and is preparing a fourth.
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