“Let my inspiration flow
In token lines suggesting rhythm…”
-- Robert Hunter, “Terrapin Station”
Regard me, Mole, as I invoke
the muses in triadic nines.
Mnemosyne shall first uncloak
our hopes and dreams to fall in token
lines.
Then Euterpe will find the rhymes
and with her pipes blow out the smoke.
Calliope will narrate times
and chime the vespers, lauds and primes
that with them stroke.
We’ll pressure Clio with a poke
to save our history from swines.
Dame Thalia will tell a joke
as Melpomene’s heroes croak
and lay to rest their spines.
Then Erato will set her mines
to capture every lass and bloke
and prism lust through Love that binds.
Terpsichore will cast the mimes
to dance our turmoil in Love’s yoke.
Let Polyhymnia provoke
the sacred prayers of rustic hinds
to gods that thundered ere they broke.
And knowledge of our cosmic spoke,
Urania let flash in blazing signs.