greatness is of more
than its merest self composed -
‘tis vanity to
otherwise suppose!
each word an unsung silence
long presupposes
while playing Aaron
to an unspeaking Moses,
and moves through makeshift
and hidden hamlets
- for he who smashes the calf
destroys the tablets -
and the truth is leased
untermed on an unmarked plot:
the covenant is
kept or it is not
…from the splinters, from
the fragments
we seek
provisional commandments -
forms, forever
undeclared,
which lurk in unimagined
wake -
divinities
we, in passing, shared -
divinities
we, in chancing, make!
…and the ills of this world are
merely what we willed