Pied à terre

Pied à terre
                   by T. Wignesan

Once within a break in brambly fields
   something stirred its fearful head in sleep:
Though it be woman or child, work or vision
   something that dares not hold me in derision

But till that lingering day bares your face
   with prating breath I bide my bane
And even as I clear the brake, shift the trunks
   hosannas crop up before you every dawn.

And someday as I have you in my arms
   in osculation's brimming nirvanic bliss,
May I not then turn away empty handed
   though warm in your inane atmanic face

Then as I wend my kindly way down the road
   pitch my tent on this terraqueous matter-mind
Should I then go looking for my immortality
   through doors that are forever locked to me

Or could I then lie upon nescience' impervious skies
   upon some smoky grass unmapped or husbanded
And hear the awakening cries of spring born trees
   then get up to wind my way to some factory blast


T. Wignesan


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