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Hail to Illiterates
Hail to illiterates then and now
opaque to armies of symbols dashing
their dance over plains of white in
unintelligible gyrations of black—
ants and clowns struggling, straggling
over tramlines of feint or Irish
Hail to the savage, nose keen as a dog’s
to wind, weather, danger lurking, fish or root—
eyes to prowl secrets from rocks, follow tracks
senses tuned to cymbals of thunder, scent of hunt
sweetness of hive, languages of bees and ants
History a predator that preys as a spider,
web of civilization trembling sticky silk
millenniums of libraries waiting to be written,
blunt the eyes with wriggles and squiggles
commandments and prophecies, treaties, laws
and all the venom that oozes from their ink
© Johnmichael Simon
2013
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