The Gardener’s Redemption

By Roy Doughty
Written 3/3/07

These mutations are fully dramatized
In places that the busy eyes neglect.
For example, this morning, in his garden,
The stockbroker is conditioned by his search
For commissions, and these concerns alter
His photoreceptors, so that he neither
Sees nor wonders at the marvel of this
Hawthorne swarmed by creatures heavier than
Air, making paths of poesy in the manner
Of their flight, these many moving as one,
Clothed in fantastic stripes, satcheled with nectar,
Making honey, living in perfect three-
Dimensional models, which explicate
The mystery of that commodity
The broker has never had enough of.
His spreadsheets are busy blossoming ink.
Redundancies crawl over them,
As if they were the heartless bells of flowers,
Made black by the potencies of a lightless sun.
Now the broker’s gaze, cyclopean, single-minded,
Lands heavily in the Hawthorne,
Where, guided by eyes as numerous as stars,
He thrashes, stung, in the white, deep billowy pillows
Of that exuberance
He has so diligently, so fruitlessly, tried to shun.

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