The Ballad of the Tyrant
The tyranny of Boulderoak the knavery of Dor the flat out death at Zonderzee the corpses on the floor The scepter of the ruler…
Sitting facing the Ka’ba
like a flat black kite
bobbing in the wind, or rather
the flat black square of the kite is
stationary, the world is
bobbing —
a thousand billion feet stride past, going from
left to right, feet of whole
nations it seems, feet hitting cold marble,
heels and toes passing endlessly,
feet of emperors (who knows?), feet of accountants, feet of
women filled with grief,
feet of brand new innocent children, small and
eager,
all shapes and colors and sizes of feet
in stately human procession,
feet seen and feet unseen, feet maybe
of the dead, not knowing they’re
dead, sometimes only
one to a customer, sometimes none, ghost feet
passing always to the right
taking their owners in blissful bewilderment
around their own hearts,
black kite as still as the
deepest pillars of the
world, the world
bobbing in the wind. Finally
cast free!
12/30/95 (from Mecca-Medina Timewarp)
Categories: Poems, Ramadan / 'Eid