Sun worship… song at night
Once a pagan rock art
Once a general relativity formula
Once bones dried once cremated ash
Echoes to the sun in day dreams of
Dollars falling like leaves
The hustle and bustle at
Break of day buses trains
And combustion chambers
Puffing and stuffing breaths
Of cottonmouth bacteria to grow
To maturities to the sex life of
Near death with near life
Parks full of parents with children at play
Among the leaves of trees of dollars tossed
Into the dying air where they blow
With the wind that takes happiness away
(That is a piece of work) . Nearby in the
Dim un-gated shaded ghettos gardens we
Share fruits that yield to harvest to stock
Life’s wishes boxed in the keep-safe of
Warehouses they all return moneyless
To the sty the value of the dollar to the
Myth in the ideal of the quality
Of life in the formula the myth
In the circumference
The reality of God and currency squared…
Squared in the symbol of the ankhs
And the dollar to learn
Sun worship… the song of night.
Lee B. Mack (OTS)