To Thomas Jefferson
Ivan Taub
I saw amber puffed mounds,
Pitch and fall from the depths,
Summoning petulant sea birds,
To navigate my course.
All the way, wearily, wearily,
I penned manuscripts of slop,
And conjured the weary Hercules,
Carrying argosies of gallant men.
To wed the jealous sea.
Cup the orient sun, I cried.
Beckon the burgeoning moon,
Hosted by her star brigade,
To kiss the polling booths,
From New York to Athens.
Oh, the cannibal splendor:
Obscene fat men smoking cigars,
Moonstruck lovers sucking dove's eggs,
All singing merrily, merrily,
To Thomas Jefferson.
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Author Bio
Ivan Taub, Ph.D., is a metaphysical philosopher with degrees in Religion, Theatre, and Humanities. He is a produced playwright, published composer and orchestra leader. Dr. Taub teaches Intellectual Heritage at Temple University, Tyler School of Art.
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