Heartland Guy

Whatever may or may not be hidden
in the obscure desk cubbyhole of to-this-age
an anonymous (anonymous
to contemporary We) clerk
in the deepest depths of the department
that runs the department that really rules
the cell which is just the secret underbelly
of a lot more few know about; said
running rule in perpetual
settings for optimal operation
mode from this sphere’s molten
core the outfit that epitomizes

most the original source of the Truest
Truth Universal Agency, it seems
that from this blurry perspective of innocent
ignorance the abstract entity, Prudence,
suggests Virtue does plunge into
a retro romp routine when just one unit
accords respectful value to knowing when
sound and scent advise: avoid these vibes, these vibes
to the senses, toxicity sour,
distant and odious cousin to sunshine
splash, which most know as what the lemon grove
wings of love sweetly bestow; these sour

vibes coming as a tidal enemy,
and those that murmur on the yonder
fuzzy horizon sill; avoid still.
As knowledge petals flower, instincts buzz
and facility with the sensual
heightens, and muscles appear, flexing ease
with metaphor: one silver strand that makes
loss go down a little easier
yet will never break; never snap. Never
play the game; more like prophetic instead.
Try the cosmos-custom port-of-entry;
now recite the inscription: Poetry.