the pump can scarcely pump it out
and when it's out it isn't out
but circles back and gurgles in.
The whole process starts again .
The old fanatic goes berserk.
I get no respite in my work.
Magnus es, domine!
I have to let him have his say.
2
The second person might avail
to rouse him down there in his well ,
summon the genie from the pit
but I'm not ready for that yet.
I'm still in shape , it still makes sense
to ratify the drift , dispense
with formulae that others feed
the full-grown babes that bawl with need
inside themselves. The one in there
may starve to death for all I care.
3
But why keep to these restraints?
Not every random pigment taints
or spoils the canvas of a thought
well-framed, spontaneous, untaught.
But are there such? The bars in front
cast just the shadows that I want.
If
I get out, my desperate look
will be mistaken. Under lock
and key it keeps its meaning plain.
Open the door, and what is gone?
Only the certainty we feel
seeing the prisoner in his jail .
I'll stay behind and hold the key .
That's my way of being free.
