uncluttering i prayed for, several times,
in my cave, an increased hollowness
in my inner self, that void in the flower
yellow and smart, first to beat the winter
claiming hope, a spring, surviving summer:
a witness to the egoless divine incarnation
brushed aside as a bastard, a commoner
unlike the pompous popes and sly power
conniving with priests and lay at all times
with a pogrom on souls with colorful idols
unreal, unnatural that can never match muscle
in your colour, oh dandelion, my role model
pulling me, and mine, from spiritual sloth
while your jagged leaves are a reassurance
for my broken life, uneven lines of poetry
floating in my heart, my empty soul
winging, like your petals, with no destination;
but only those men and women teaching
children to gallop fast like horses with
blinkers
hold you in contempt, as weed, a nuisance
buzzing like honey bees, or jumping like
rabbits
others, like me, consider you manna from
above
or, your roots to heal, and leaves and
flower
for more in milking cows, a providence
henry victor
06.06.2002
