Saying sooth

He was stoking the bushes, where the sun dropped
in by World’s Fair Park, babbling orders
in his impunity of heaven he smoked in a long pipe.
Commandments followed forth where he did not:
thou shalt be made of salt, thou shalt walk underfoot
the knees of kneeling giants. Sometimes he made sense,
salt or not, sometimes he bellowed Buddleja smoke.
Thou shalt not enter into congress with strangers
in the park lowing hosanna to their favorite selves,
the unwashed intemperate kind, he said.

~ by Jeremy on August 6, 2012.

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