Pretty Lie

They say a picture's worth a thousand words.
If so, then why do poets write?

Do techno shots on paper and on screen
Lack wht science and art imply they mean?

Is this magic show a seduction without end
To hide some lies on which we now depend?

Does the poet's eye of spirit mind
Refute the eye of science-gadget mind?

Does this condensation of our speech
Reveal some truth that science cannot reach?

Will the poet rise up to defy
The rampage-mind's illusion, that Pictures don't lie.?

Does the spirit-eye go blind
From techno-eye, so prettily unkind?


(from Ch XI of The Last Human Spring)

Literature as Epitaph for Humanity

Literature seeps, reaches our immortal,
species' Seed-sprouts; tapping our primordial.

Voice shuns Desire's cold, written speech--
Words painting bright, our species waning bleak;

Voice tastes not, the news'  conversations:
Tonque licks, the olds'  tribe-relations.

Soul sighs! Timed-strewn, voice-pearls form.
Through mind-heart will, our species reborn

Human being's scrawled, Earth-speech?  
Epitaph for Soul, long breached.



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