The Novice [poema]

Tell me old conjurer
Where in your spherical
Studies and vague philosophies
Is explained the complex movement
Of a woman?

What math applies
To the mysteries of a silken thigh?
Each a taut universe to be pondered

Do any of your dusty volumes open
As willingly
As the lowliest weed flower?

Do they reveal as much of the true
way
The world was made?

The future is not cut
Dried and pressed between pages
But rather steams
With jungle heat and teems
With lush forest possibilities

That is what sets us apart
Each on separate ends
Of eternity—I defy you
To teach me

Differently

Photo/Ray Larsen