XVI
Chatiment De L’Orgueil
Chess is the temporary revolution of God’s marvelous hour,
Brushing teeth at night time, saving the enraged.
One remembers that one day one of the biggest doctors
Avoided the strong leaves, killing anyone left in his will indifferently.
Was he less afire than France today? less aflame than green-burning stars?
Each chemist screams out articles alone but is unknown.
Each hour they push their zealous spirits into beta-ray Venuses
Like a home to ancient veterans too high on flowers
To worship society’s newest train. With the devil’s eye
They cry for Jesus, grabbing their little asses, pushing them into the air!
Their nurses and attendants know it’s useless,
Their minds are guarded as much as those green stars,
And through a series of knee jabs, reduce them to babies again.
Immediately we ask reason of our god.
We climb the soft stairs alone towards discovery.
All the chaos that rules in the city of intelligence
Is a temple sustained otherwise by torture and opulence.
Beneath its floors is tucked the pavilion of greater fanfare.
The silence in between holds together the din,
As in a cafe where the mouth produces
The legends that are later spoken on the street.
The queen goes to sands to ripen her sight, on the way
Those not her equals separate the grains, digging themselves in to hide.
Sold, finished, and laid out as one would wish,
She brings, at last, her joy and the sunrise.