Word Game

The pure white sheet of unclothed thought
has, pencilled in its margins
in lexicographite,
those squiggles that are lexicognomens
of lexigognoscenti
who roget through the saurian lists,
more synonym than sinning,
arriving, where the fowler's usage leads,
at an abusage of partridges.

The Worker

I am as free as any slave
to think my thoughts and write
my hidden poems. I am free
to dream the dreams I dream
with my own inner voice.

And you my masters are as tied
to me as I to you. Do you
still watch for evidence of the soul?
What do you think you buy when you
buy me? How free is free?
And sirs, how free are you?