THE BOAT RACE: NEW SCARRIET POEM

I love sleep. I cannot wake
From my dreams which contain dreams:
Poison discovered at the bottom of the cup.
My reality is not poisoned by what seems.
Reality is increased by illusion; illusion selects
The island for the island-play.  The boat race
Is world-wide and made for sorrow and wrecks
No sorrow can save; otherwise fate were owned by someone.

Poets are the weariest sailors.  You might see one
Or you might never see one.  What do you know of the world?
Have you wrestled with hopes, sorrow, envy,
Fought beyond all senses, steered with sails furled
Because the stream’s underground?  Have you seen the sun
Furiously stand still while you had to hold the world?
Or sailed with sailors about to mutiny?
Forced to return or they would cut your throat?
But most important, did you have the mind
To make your sufferings more than sufferings?
I dreamed you sailed in a wooden, perfumed boat.
You were asleep, I think, and this pen was at your throat.

THEY DON’T ALWAYS TELL YOU WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW

They don’t always tell you what you need to know.
In the crowded corridors where they whispered low,
They don’t know, they don’t know, they don’t know.

The truth is in chains and ignorance all aglow.
They don’t always tell you what you need to know.

In the corner, by the awning, someone was crying,
The blossoms are here, but the blossoms are dying.
The trees are tall and you never saw them grow.
They don’t always tell you what you need to know.

The friendly spokesman had a song in his voice.
You were given the brochure and were sure of the choice.
In that light you knew how much you would owe.
They don’t always tell you what you need to know.

They felt the oppressors were fully in the wrong.
They put it in a textbook, they put it in a song.
But you still need to work.  And they have a show.
They don’t always tell you what you need to know.

You were not at the meeting where it was decided
The secret thing would be derided,
The thing that was your thing in the waters below.
They don’t always tell you what you need to know.

They made it as a sandwich.  They made all sorts of decisions
Which hollowed out your thoughts and trampled your visions.
You thought it wouldn’t matter. It happened so slow.
They don’t always tell you what you need to know.

Don’t tell them you’re happy. Walk out into row after row.
Some nonsense at twilight will be their undoing,
The wise who didn’t tell you what you needed to know.

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