The Orator makes his Case

it is addressed thusly:
A thought.
it reads:
I want to speak of the elemental things;
I have heard man tires of them,
I've heard what he places above them
Unworthy, words that may describe
A view of things from an odd-shaped glass
A purview whose qualities may pass
The test of novelty, but bribe
The senses into shock and awe
With only their subjects avoided
All of their Rorshachs Freuded
We have but a lexical hem and haw
And countless uncertain boundaries
Unstructured, attempted spontaneities,
But none to which a lighter music brings
To himself a man is speaking
We his voyeurs, notes are keeping
But silence as an old chair creaking
Marks its listless, erratic pace
Marks the tired lines on its face
And the doctors concerned with the case
And somewhere, outside academie
In an air more disciplined, more free
Free of political perspicacity
Somewhere a soul sings.

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