Classic Poem

The explicit ends here.
Outer is inner.
It is all manifest.
Its character is durity.
There lies its charisma.

By nature it is Pangaea.
It has its own face
and its own tomb,
the way it stands,
unmoved by destiny,
a model for the mind.
We can only be spectators.
All is day within.

" Go to the village, "
I tell my wife,
" and bring back a chicken,
an onion, a goose
and an apple
and we'll lie here
and repopulate this Siberia. "

It is in Genesis.
A strange god,
all torso
and without invention or audacity.

It can be accused of both plutonism
and the obvious.
The closest human thing to it
is the novocained tooth,
its Medussa hair now fossilized.

It can be bequeathed to one's heirs
with the assurance that it will not depreciate
or be found irrelevant.