Where professors are hidden in a trajectory of might and appendages of zeal

feature premise on the doorway of stemmed tidings
professors are taking up arms
post-grads are preaching teachable moments
to an unenthusiastic crew of noble servants
in another timezone Abraham hats are journeying
like awkward mines and a credence that wills
propelled stilled material witnesses, all gathered
around donkey disturbances, too frightened to see a cure
too endowed with artificial art to see what is coming

but the professors see what is coming
they have no reason to hide it from themselves
stealth meetings behind crying curtains
firewall lists and calibrated shrines for future
seaplane matrimony like tired walls pretending
to be vacant, pretending to not be around

from Germany to English wharves, they
sail on India coral wood trees for fervent matter
and red doting tangled limbs, like Iran in winter
like subsequent birthdays of God, metered and not present
but still in the galleries of Canadian forums
and breeding the children of comic stern thinking hands
where crystal bells shatter against the new waking day
forever in a speech that FDR could not compose
dirtied by the camps and teaching future children
how not to resolve conflict, how not to remember time