3 Poems From The Pantheist

The House my Father Built Weeks, he spent on building it, A labour of love Precision bred from devotion Measuring, varnishing, planning Wiring the rooms to a battery in the loft Installing light bulbs, carpeting each space He papered the walls, raised chimneys With their terracotta pots Painted the slates, inserted plastic windows With their frames, as expertly formed As stained glass in a kirk The doors, both front and back, had perfect handles Down to the letterbox, the rug The house, in its own fixed spot, Had a path withpainted flowers And packs of furniture for every room A miniature family ready to move in I should at least have pretended it gave me joy He'd poured so much into that house for dolls All for his little girl, a spoiled brat Like a fiddle, she played onhis heart Nobody but a father loves like that No matter what, lays out the welcome mat Roads Kirk roads, ferry roads Ford roads, coffin roads Drove roads, turnpike roads Smugglers' tracks Rabbit roads, whale roads Owl roads, mole roads Roads from Paradise To Hell and back Bunyan, Chaucer Dante's Purgatory Life is the baggage In your soul's backpack Alfred Charles Kinsey (1894-1956) Sex Guru / Liberator / Pervert? Kinsey was born, the son of a poor professor In childhood contracted rickets, rheumatic fever And typhoid, all ravages on his system His parents were strict Methodists Raised no objection to his wish To become a concert pianist Rejected his choice to become a science researcher For years he studied the mating habits of wasps From there he leapfrogged onto Human sexuality, this bisexual man Whom Byron would have adored He had an open marriage Filmed his experimenters In flagrante delicto up in his attic His wife bringing milk, towels, cookies To refresh the fornicators He interviewed paedophiles, prisoners, prostitutes Claimed that abnormality Was celibacy, abstinence, marriage that was delayed Did not include in the list His habit of urethral insertion Inserting straws, pipe cleaners, pencils (Even a toothbrush)into that suffering cavity In later life he circumcised himself With a small penknife. The question unanswered, is why? Genius, they say, stands on a perch unsteady, prone to sway