L I V E
           I D E A
           M E E T
           O A R S


    I see a media revolt,
    a mere aside to evil,
    rise to veil a Medea.
    I evade a rote smile,
    see a motive derail,
    ire seem a dovetail.
    I, servile to a Medea?
    I've so ideal a meter
    I seem a love tirade.
    I dare Eve to a smile,
    to dream a lie sieve,
    see o'er a Veda limit.
    I seem to aid a revel.
    I live to see a dream.
 
                    12.7.97 

                          Whose Enkidu?


         That guy who stopped the tank in
         Tienanmen Square who stood there
         Himself a Heaven righteous in his disbelief
         surrendering all but the geography beneath
         his feet the footprints of Buddha Pantokrator
         his briefcase full of Deng Sutras or an IBM deal
         vestigial in the grainy photograph
         where the twain do meet & one surmounts many
         "Who are those guys?" Butch Cassidy asked
         The Sundance Kid demonstrating too late
         the edge of corporation over partnership
         a geopolitical nuance perhaps not lost on the helmeted
         geek in the stinking diesel prepared by what
         he saw through the slit to pay the price of admission


         "a society is never allowably more important
         than a man who does know himself."
                                         --Charles Olson


                                     (from: Blue Horitals)