The Poet Wearies
I’ve had it with being Your herald.
Everybody has a voice,
why am I the one who has to get on board
with no say about where we’re headed?
Why not proclaim the wondrous woof of looms
Yourself, with that voice that echoes
to the four corners of the earth?
The world’s seen so much progress
and you still insist on traveling salesmen
going door-to-door on horseback.
Check out this jack knife, people,
Take a good look, ma’am, it’s magic:
slices and screws, tweezes and dices –
a whole set of tools in one!
let me work in the kitchen.
I’m not a peddler, or a scribe,
just let me make Your bread.
Child, says the Lord,
all I eat is words.