Now that the whale is in its demise
used for a premiss, or an argument
Where the God is the true North of Compass,
Not, for I am an unbeliever, Hart,
I travel on this junk of ours, which incidently
is only figuratively, with the aim, of a poem
that has blundered its way into an epic,
What has passed, what landmarks did we spot,
A recapitulation seems in order, but it must wait,
So, this junk, with the Chinese characters ablaze,
Like the ones Ezra Pound and Kenneth Rexroth
would approve,
猴子
Would it need an interpretation, a scribe, to take
an official examination, to study all there is to know
about the monkey,
the monkey on the back of a dolphin, on the
fly leaf of an Aesop's Fable,
We see it from the deck, the intertextuality
swimming alongside our junk, We the voyagers
into the obscure, toward the unwritten constitution
of the poet's rights, the right to poach, the right
to plunder, the right to take from mythology
and the right to become a mystery.
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