PUTE

Up above
Crow's nest
Eagles fly

The baubles we seek
Upon this climb of repute
Are bubbles that peak
On the steam of esteem

So from silence speak
And self pity rebuke refute
From stillness not leak
But lock your stem's stream

And drink only white leafed tea
And chew only cooked black rice

(How many repetitions must be heard
Before a sound becomes a word)

And repeat repeat
Mama papa baba rama mama baba
How many repetitions before it
Becomes us

Or another card house
Guilt edged

Give me a cave little baba
And let the winds blow

For the candle light in a cave
Enlightens just as in a palace

So Baba says

However many
Few cuts are fatal
And even healing wounds are painful

So harvest in the moonlight
For the sun can grow hotter
Even as the days draw short



*"pute" means pure if you're Rudyard Kipling but prostitute if you're French