By the virtue that we are children & were more so
That young & exposed we were cunning enough to read
That the society of the matured & even our peers rejected us
That the chemicals were available the tradition existed
That we were barefoot & hairy & each quiet w/ rifles
That the continuous rush of adolescence is unquenchable
That all the myriad illusion can be burnt to feed the blossom
These things that I teach my sons.
By this nourishment may their sapience grow
That they may haunt the integral w/out need of mirrors
That they may lithe maneuver, unfettered by encroachment,
A fugue of river, earth, & will.
That they may pursue the Wood on their own tough feet
That they may endure the pipes & bodhran sounding in their veins
That by a watchful moon they keep the oaths they make
These things I guarantee my sons.
This from the father, from a brother hard drawn to make it possible,
From an unwavering voice that damns the machine.
Marcus If teaches poetry at the Beyond Academia Free Skool every second
Sunday at the Boulder Public Library, 2 p.m., always free.