BRUNK HOWARD


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Imagination truth

A singular and a waste treatment plant

Like god and a crawling ant

Distant and touching at the same time.

It comes to soberly pass

In a village in a mountain pass

All stones and stars do align.


For just past the sewage plant

And a single crawling ant

A walker starts his ascent.

Not fifty yards away

Time begins to sway

As does the walker’s intent.

Neither near nor far

Near as a stone and a star

The world exposes its bent.

For standing at a bend

In what seems to be pretend

A young woman puts the lie to earthly beauty.

Through mists that swirl

Magic hair both straight and curl,

Her whole expressible only mutely.


The woman and the traveler

A he and a her

Introduced through their hearts and minds.

With both time and kind

Reckoning ,” Never the silence mind,

Everything is so perfect fine.”


One more step does he take

And his world begins to shake

As does his view of the ineffable.

Less than another step more

In a way he can’t ignore

The view becomes the effable.


For a screw has turned

And her image is burned

Replaced by wood and wire.

He seeks refuge in night’s sleep

Which brings the deepest weep

And all around the hottest fire.


His loss is so great

He swears he can’t tolerate

The reliving of that pain.

“I am not such a fool

And I am not so cruel

To ever walk that path again.”

But in the way of man

Who embraces self damn

As though a mother’s saving milk,

Next morning’s light

Finds him at yesterday’s site

Embracing it like the finest silk.

His effort doesn’t disappoint

For the universe does anoint

With again the gift of the lie to earthly beauty.

But this time with one thing more

Exactly what he’d hoped for

Her words and not merely mutely.


Her words they say,

“We’ve both been led this way

By of what I surely know not.”

But I am surely a her

And you are surely a sir

And that is surely much more than a lot.”


“I’m as long as the universe is far

And as short as you are,”

Says her voice traveling down the hill,

“And your imagination speaks truth

As the gun of John Wilkes Booth

You’re not wanting for the required skill.”



The gift she could give him

The gift he could win

Requires the element of distance.

For her presence is strong,

The whole universe long,

But has this single insistence.


“If you come one bit closer

I’ll collapse to a post sir

With wire for legs and arms.

But if you keep this distance

Then the single insistence

Gives you all of my charms.”

Each tine you return here

You’ll return to what is most dear

And each time will be as the first.

Stones and stars will flood your heart

And life will play you every part

And deny you not slake and thirst.


He agrees and they depart

As she says, with beauty’s art,

“No sense to alter our composition.

You’ll only see me as I be

With our present geometry

And no trick of energy can alter this proposition.

For any change that you make

In the whole universe’s take

Will only show metal wire and wooden post

And will remove from your air

No matter how gentle your care

All that you want the most.”


Much time has passed,

By now he no longer  asks.

As words come to him while silently praying.

They come from on high

And come from nearby,

The words, “It goes without saying.”