From Michael Schiavo...
Blue Hay
Experts are puzzled by the farmer's wife --
At least that's what they want you to believe.
Instead of sleeping, they're wide awake, ourselves like
Ghost ships risen from the sea, aimed directly
At the bewildered muskateers
With their grotesque wit, sloppy from one arcade
To another, nothing too abstract, spelling
It all out lest they embarrass themselves
Or the tribe. Not that social organizations are overly
Important -- broad, old, glittering, they have their dignity
Under the sun, but to us are as beastly mice, exemplifying
What we most abhor. It's not just the land, either,
The water too is difficult to understand. And even
A house, which would seem to be a comprehensible
Structure, has given us tizzy to spew and break
Its untraceable windows and burn linen
In the same kettle we accidentally cooked
The parakeet when we meant the tiger.
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