against the philistines

the shape of words should not we think matter
the meanings the significance and all that
have all the import all things else are the blat
of horns and the random music of the patter
for communication is just prettied-up chatter
and everything like the whole world is flat
and that's all right for all talk is just chat
and all discourse is no more than simple natter
the thought of this should freeze the simplest mind
for all the magic that we have is in the words
we utter and their varied shapes are not mere
arbitrary choices our nature's not that unkind
nor are our letters the plain flight of birds
we speak in hope that some at least will hear

the other battle

the play's not just the thing we have to catch
more than a king's conscience the very sense
of justice that is shared and the dense
network of meanings for now we must match
our nearest rivals and then contrive to snatch
victory at a time when the most intense
emotions are rising and when no pretense
of anything but truth can in this place unlatch
the secret heart that enmity would bind
to do us hurt and still to crush our hopes
while others laugh and cheer loudly when we cry
in pain for mercy and who with words unkind
applaud when we've been forced back on the ropes
those who are sorry that we don't just die

sonnet with skirt

each step seems shorter and the time has come
to work things out to do all that we'll need done
in a short period now we almost wish the sun
would run its course with greater speed the sum
of all our desires is now before us and the drum
is beating ever faster as we wait now when we run
the race has greater purpose we can't shun
the consequence of thought that would be dumb
now days soon hours the way ahead is clear
there's nothing that we've missed or have forgot
and naught that should be taken as a strain
on all our efforts now this is the appointed year
the moment when the tab fits in the slot
and when what's irrelevant is minor pain

the answer comes that when we've made a gain
in the small battle where the greatest fear
is that we'll give it up that our own souls' rot
would make us abandon all for which we care
just at the moment when we've filled the pot
with all our hopes and sheltered from the rain
we take new steps and our tired spirits rouse
but we reject the fear we'll take this for our house

A view of the kitchen