All interpretations rest
on a lower form of
manipulation; 
your lemonade stand and
daddy's dollar in the till
can't bring to me the
brilliant pill of 
happiness.

Scholars consolidate
the letters of ancient
trees of life and cry
foul at lost remembrances;
the lone scout rushes to
warn a house of drunkards,
slipping on the barf of
paper riches and barren
cupboards as the can
falls, 
my heart,
slows,
to
think.

All the world watches
show business whores
set up the thought to
spare;
the crumble of Kabbalah,
to the dime-store sale
of $2.99-

oh my lord, whip it
free!

Junctures happen, 
men of mission rise
to her and beg
the peak of eagles-

fly with me to 
safety, child-
2 levels;

god
and
rabble.