A Honeyed Scroll of Oracles

An amazing talent for sorting files—
In stories like this, the world’s gifts make sense.

Languages bring no courage to foxes,
But all lions like kibitzing with mice.

The fly caught inside the car pings around
It’s futuristic box of light, the end.

Inside a hearse containing two caskets
Lie the partial remains of three dozen

Immigrants, the adults in one casket,
Nine children under twelve in the other.

This pastel-colored world, flooded with joy,
This inadequate response in wavelengths,

New country of the soul, primeval source
Of the usual surprising problems

Fundamental to successful stories—
Never passively endure the problems.

Passivity sits in a bright meadow,
Thieving moments and phrases for nothing.

You can’t do this alone. Not if you talk.
No beast hosting language can live alone.