I have the blessings platitudes
in attitude charade
the meanings mists
in smoky haze

the heritages
of many moons
the gaze of lovers
crazy sacrilege

once the sun came up around
the backs of men
surrounded them
in monuments and sacrifice

and I will never be one of them
I take the women
you left behind
a coward mighty

in my seeing how
ultimately
it is not my fight:
my urge

is only loving

and  one thing, in particular,
seems to be my disturbing
philosophy
I read the

works of Machiavelli,
and considered him the
fool.