Age Of Anticipation (I) Poem by Leon Moon

beatified discrimination is our natural agreement
giving law a right to commandant,
bedlam for bedrock, saturated foundation's swap
exile with welcomed hesitation, a simple want-
drop met in unearthed desperation;
bile in blood on a cotton swab.

had the ticket master any instinct of self-evaluation
then rituals would not praise memory into revelation;
fruit would bare lock, waves would learn to stop
and not inbreed undersea with all that cannot float,
"such are the dreams of flesh whose fascination
bled and wept only on walls within the moat."

tied to the strings of yesterday's exultation
like birthday balloons left behind by the reservation;
willed aureate collapse alien to the clock
foreshadows enough for the genius with the stopwatch,
history relies on his grateful attention
and it is doubtful he will raise a flock.

the pretentious suicide of a trustworthy companion,
el dorado's invitation, the farce of spirit, an amalgamation
of commitment written before the book
earned enough life for words to look;
we are in the grand Age of Anticipation
unburied once a second has no second look.