i'm going in to Walden
rough hewn furniture on the dirt floor of my mind
i'll be there more than a fortnight
sweat  ~ as i beat seed into soil
and read books that are kind
labor pains to rebirth my Spartan first twinge
now, cannot be held back
technology's convenience has stifled
my diligence left slack
Thoreau said he could not condemn the illiterate
for he  ~Plato~  had not known
as if he were his "next neighbor' *
& from his wisdom 
had not grown
my charge ~  to feed my mind
whole grains plucked, crushed
prepared without leaven
to "prefer the natural sky to an opium-eater's heaven"**


*   Walden, chapter   3, ¶ 10
** Walden, chapter 11, ¶ 8