Usury

1.

Amos of Tekoa
The most ancient of the Hebrew prophets
Was a simple shepherd in the field

He saw the oppression and exploitation of the poor
And he raised his voice like one lost in the wilderness
Calling out for social justice:

Not that the high places of New York will be brought low
Not that the pampered ladies of Chicago
Will be slaughtered like the cows of Bashan

Not that the wealth of America will be redistributed
But that the wealthy deserve the wealth
It is their punishment

A wealthy man detests nothing more
Than the sight of the happy poor

And when he has come to old age
He deserves to spend a million dollars a month
To extend his sad life a few more hours

He and his family deserve the pain
Of the facial and bodily mutilations
Done by the plastic surgeons

He deserves to see his family splintered
Surrounding his deathbed like a pack of jackals
Growling and snapping at each other
In hopes gaining a little more inheritance

For this is the pain of wealth
The care of money
The deathly dreading of poverty
Truly they have received their reward

2.

And yet the prophet has not spoken of the government
Of its detestable inter-penetrations with the corporations
Their obscene relationships with the lawyers
Who are guilty of vile acts with lobbyists
Who are in bed with insurance companies
Who have illicit affairs with bankers
Who have spread their disease to the pharmaceuticals
Who hold the medical industry in bondage
While they sodomize the HMOs

Until it is clear that the whole thing is dirty
That our economic failure is a moral failure
And that every greedy man has a stinky finger

The Firebird (part 2)

Ivan awoke still clutching a single feather of the firebird
His headache seared with the dawn sun
He quickly concealed the feather
Cloaking its luminescence

Prince Ivan entered the court of the king
Through large oaken doors
He stepped across the musty threshold
His footsteps echoing on mosaic tile
Filling the gigantic stillness of the corridor

As he approaches the dimly lit throne of the king
He bows before his father's presence saying
“Father, I bring strange news
And a gift for you.”

The prince brings forth the feather and holds it aloft
The king's courtiers fall back in astonishment
Beholding the breathtaking feather
Which shines as a white light at its source
Projecting color throughout the hall
Filling it as with stained glass radiance

The kings court sits in breathless astonishment
Charmed by circling lights and swirling patches
When Ivan again cloaks the feather
The room falls into smoky darkness
The king sits silently in the gloomy atmosphere
Until finally he softly speaks:

“Where hast thou this token of power and light?”
“Gotten from thine own courtyard, sire,” said the prince.
While tending my tree of silver apples
I saw a sublime bird woman approaching the tree
Her dazzling plumage disguises a fiercely
Intelligent countenance and strange power
She caused an apple to blight me on the head
She escaped leaving only one feather trapped in my hand

A smile slowly crept across the face of the king
He felt the throngs of desire begin to course in his veins:
“Since the death of your mother the queen
I have sought to replace the light that she once gave me
Finding none suitable I resigned to live out my days alone
But now I know the existence
Of a magical being who may again
Bring light and beauty to my kingdom

Who will go in search of this magical bird woman?”

A hush filled the hall until Piotr
The eldest son of the king
Addressed the court: “Sire, I will quest for the Firebird
I will select the best huntsmen from among my ranks
We will pursue the Firebird on horseback.”

Then Anton the next eldest also spoke:
“Sire, I will quest for the Firebird as well
I will take the best falconers of the kingdom
Pursuing the Firebird over air and land.”

“Yes! Yes!” roared the king.
“Take with you the fleetest hounds of Russia
And the most skillful trappers as well
But take no arrows with you
For I know that men in their zeal
Would kill the quarry before seeing her escape
I only value her alive
Know that the hunter who kills the Firebird
Will surely pay with his own life
But the man who captures the Firebird
And brings her to me will be lauded
With gifts of wealth and glory.”

Hight applause rings throughout the king's hall!
The men rush from the hall in preparation for the quest

"The Firebird" part 1

Invocation.

If there is something in me that loves poetry
I wish you would come to me
And whisper now into my ear
The words of this poem

For truly I do not know them
They are strange to me
As everything I write is strange
Strange as a child becomes to his mother

Still there is love
Still I wish my children would go out
With success into the world
But I know them too well

I wish that voice would whisper to me
Concerning Felicity the immortal Firebird
How she breaks the wild Leviathan
Struggling with him
Finally bridling him securely
And mounting with spurs upon his back
She begins to ride him and bid him do her will

But these are facts
What I am interested in
Is myth:

In her mythological life
The Firebird is prismadically plumed
With luminescent feathers and crystalline eyes
Such that one captured feather
Will brighten an entire castle hall

For to us she is an object of beauty and magic
Something perhaps to be captured and possessed
But not known

And what magic she would give to the man
Who could possess her
What power.

Part 1.

One day in the ancient present
Ivan the young and beautiful prince of Russia
Sleepily lounged in the pleasant summertime
In the courtyard where a tree of silver apples grew

Ivan the prince of Russia
Cared more than anything in the world
About his apple tree
He carefully pruned it and daily numbered its apples

This species of apples was known in southern Europe
In ancient times but here it appears
That silver apples were also known in Russia
In some remote yet contemporary century

This tree of mysterious origin
Cultivated in Ivan's courtyard
Contained apples of the densest silver
Falling with severity on any who may be passing beneath

And it happened one afternoon
In summertime when the dogwood seeds
Drift in pleasant sunshine
That Ivan awoke drowsily from a nap

Through the haze and stillness of the air
Ivan apprehended the magical firebird
For the first time he glimpsed her radiant plumage
Beneath his silver apple tree

Apparently attracted to his silver apples
The silent bird stood motionless
As if aware of being watched
The prismadically plumed firebird
Oped one black crystal eye wide in surveillance

Ivan, not wanting to alert the brilliant bird
Closed his eyes and pretended to be dreaming
But when he again opened them she was gone
Having taken one of his apples with her

Instead of being saddened at the missing apple
Ivan found himself smiling with wonder
Flattered that the firebird
Who is known as a very rare creature
Of magnificent power, beauty and intelligence
Had graced his courtyard choosing his particular apples

That night Ivan kept intent watch on the balcony
Overlooking the garden. A partial moon cast
Silver light and a nightingale sang spooky music
The heavy odor of lilacs perfumed the wakeful Ivan
As he meditated breathing deeply in perfect stillness

With a wing beat the Firebird appears
Alighting beneath the tree
The Silver apples strain the branches downward
As if magnetized to the bird's plumage
One ripe apple breaks away and flies to her

Vaulting off the balcony and onto the garden wall
Ivan skillfully maneuvers to cutoff her retreat
Confronting her with the guilty theft of his apples
Admonishing her in wrathful tones
He pins her shoulders against the tree

But at that moment the nearest apple breaks away
From its branch and neatly dollops the prince about the head
Wounding him and knocking him unconscious
While he bleeds he clutches a single translucent feather

The Jaded Bumblebee

In my dream
I am a jaded bumblebee
The only bug in a field
Of desperately blossoming petunias