“Abuses of the Flax Seed”
Abuses of the flax seed, innocence in fruits
To sooth the stomach, clothe the back
And something close to comfort in the haystack
Come to mind to suite
The times while I lie wasted.
I am in need of rest from all I have,
A kind of promissory ointment beyond salacious salves
To moisten gross reliefs from what I’ve tasted.
Here it comes, then, repetition once
Too often off the mark by widths
Of little more than flaxen hairs. Maudlin myths
Give rise to hopes that round circumferences
Of any given globe lie peace and wisdoms
Enough to neutralize desire and indecision.