Drinking from the Tap

I don’t stand behind anything. I stand

before, above, upon, athwart, beyond.

Perhaps your mortal speech must correspond

to fixed categories, but please understand

I am not a mortal, I’m a brand,

self-contained and self-defined, a bond

self-issued and self-paid, and a natural blond.

Small men perceive mere truth as reprimand.

But truth is like the cat the fellow put

into the box, at once alive and dead;

simply a glance can change the very nature

of a thing: the truth can’t win a game or foot

a bill. When will you get it through your head:

your eternal truths are merely nomenclature.