Weights and Measures: My Poem, The Dark Psalms of Doctor John Faustus, Published

The Custom House

Another age: our greed-governed ancestors

Venture forth, significant supercargoes

Compelling the twins: speed and economy.

They bounded oceans for Madagascar

Or Malay, craved the Orient’s garb.

We watch for their return with telescope

Of brass: pennants streaming, hull stowed with teas

And silks. We dream them into our harbors.

We await tribute from captains now arrived,

Long doldrumed—their ships in need of repair:

Sails split and rotting, spars sprung.

Ascending the granite steps, these dangerous men,

These men unable to meet our tariffs

Curse the collectors of the world, the weights

And measures; their minds unbalanced, salt-eaten.

They sulk impatiently, clawing their daggers:

We’ve seen their kind before.

Once in every while a revolution;

They murder us at our desks: stabbed with pen,

Bludgeoned with ink bottle. We disappear

For a time: there are advantages,

Our ghostly machinery still keeping account.

In the end they always pay.

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