The Crest
July 11
21:11
2021
ERIC CHAET
originally published at SO-CALLED POEMS
High above this or that autumn’s canopies of leaves & fruits
the highest steeples, minarets, & transmission towers
& rockets poised for launching beyond Earth’s gravity
the summits, the top floor offices of great cities
where the greatest fortunes are managed & extended
for the cleverest of those free to embrace risk as adventure–
while those competing to escape scarcity cater to them
triggering generations of suffering by enforcing their domination
or initiating yet another round of violent struggle for supremacy–
is the crest I am crossing over.
SEE ALSO
Eric Chaet, born Chicago, 1945, South Side, beaten, denigrated, sinking, swimming—servant of a refractory nation and species, sweating laborer in factories and warehouses, wearing jacket and tie in offices and classrooms—”so-called poems” published and posted around the world, sporadically, for decades—author of People I Met Hitchhiking On USA Highways (read a review) and How To Change the World Forever For Better—perpetual polymath student, synthesizer of specialists’ insights and methods, solo consultant regarding space exploration and accidents involving obsolete industrial machinery—album of songs Solid and Sound—hitchhiked back and forth between the Pacific and Atlantic, sleeping out for years and subsisting on water and sunflower seeds, stapling a series of 1500 posters he made to utility poles, inciting whoever saw them to seize the responsibility for their own lives—governing without coalition or means of or inclination to coerce or confiscate, from below, approximately invisible.
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