If the Masters Wrote K/S

IF THE MASTERS WROTE K/S

If ee cummings WROTE K/S, a duet

I

one starry night

(at the appointed place
where if became is)

a golden idol
standing tall among the fleet
handed me his heart.

Nobody, it's safe
to say, observed him but

myself; and why?because

without any doubt he was
whatever (first and last)

mostpeople fear most:
a mystery for which i've
no word except alive

--that is, completely alert
and miraculously whole;

with not merely a mind and a body

but unquestionably a katra--
by no means tragically heroic

(or otherwise beyond perfection)
but essentially unconquerable
or eternally beneficent

a fine, not a splendored idol
(not a human, but a person)

and while never saying a word

who was anything but demure;
since the smile of him

self sang like a lyre.
Mostpeople have been heard
screaming for intragalactic

accords that render chaos logical
--how would it be if we

all simply followed our hearts

II

a man who had fallen among humans
lay by my side still on his back
dressed in uniform of duty
wearing a peaked slant for a smile

vulcan plying an elite
but ironic twist of fate in
return for freedom of the fleet
endowed him with a stiff facade

whereon countless brave and leal
shipmates did thither gaze and pause
then fired by hyperproper zeal
sought newer pastures or because

masked with an icy frozen look
of sorest need from eyes which saw
only everyone he spoke
as if he did not care at all

one hand did nothing at his waist
its wideflung friend clenched firmly me
while the trouserfly ripped in haste
confessed the passion that must be.

Brushing his bangs from the stiff face
i put him all into my arms
and staggered banged with terror though
a million billion trillion stars

IF SHAKESPEARE WROTE K/S

Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing,
And sure enough thou know'st thy fair effect.
The sands of Gol do holdeth my redeeming;
My bond to thee shall be our sacrament.
But holding you be not of Surak's granting,
The joys of love be not of Vulcan's serving,
So your great gift a tear in me is rending;
And to the forge of stone I must be heading.

Thyself thou gav'st, our full worth then knowing
And me to whom thou gav'st, wonder'sly taking
So our great love, upon misprision growing
Must the temp'ring test of time be undertaking.
Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter:
In your arms alive; in the world, another matter

IF BASHO WROTE K/S

Lonely roads he walks alone
No, another is beside!
Starlit paths go on.

AMOK TIME AS HAIKU
I turn him--he smiles
I smile back unabashed
new season begins

IF EMILY DICKINSON WROTE K/S

I had been hungry all these years.
My time had come to dine.
I, trembling, drew my loved one near
And tasted of his wine.

'Twas to this man that I had looked
When burning, hungry, lone.
I gazed upon the glorious gold
I dare not dream to own.I had been hungry all these years.
My time had come to dine.
I, trembling, drew my loved one near
And tasted of his wine.

'Twas to this man that I had looked
When burning, hungry, lone.
I gazed upon the glorious gold
I dare not dream to own.

I did not know his quenching kiss
'Twas so unlike the one
The girl and I had onetime shared
'Neath Omicron Ceti's sun.

The feeling hurt, 'twas so new
Myself felt odd and weak
As a Vulcan shrub of desert land
Transported to the sea.

Nor was I hungry, so I found
That hunger is a way
Of persons banned from bounds of love
That entering takes away.

I did not know his quenching kiss
'Twas so unlike the one
The girl and I had onetime shared
'Neath Omicron Ceti's sun.

The feeling hurt, 'twas so new
Myself felt odd and weak
As a Vulcan shrub of desert land
Transported to the sea.

Nor was I hungry, so I found
That hunger is a way
Of persons banned from bounds of love
That entering takes away.

IF T.S. ELIOT WROTE K/S

A hard search we had of it.
Five of us (or was it six?)
Made the voyage, and such a strange voyage,
Back to that newborn world
For the dead, but not dead.
And my ship flew her last for us,
Just as he gave his last for her, for us.
In this time I regretted
The unspoken words, the things undone,
The choice I wouldn't make, the choice he wouldn't force,
What might have been and now might never will.
And the times I choose form over substance,
And the times I choose comfort over passion,
And the times I choose the many over the few,
And what I wouldn't give to change that now.
A hard voyage we had of it.
Near the end we preferred to travel in silence,
Sleeping in snatches,
With a voice ringing in my ears, saying
That this may all be folly.

Then as dawn broke over the tube we met the Klingons.
Unyielding--ready to kill or die for Genesis.
Genesis: life from death, or death from life?
And my ship, my beautiful ship once more gave her all
And breathed her last low on the blood red sky.
We found David away in the meadow.
My son, my future, my legacy, cold.
I killed the one who killed him, I think.
I am told Spock killed the other.
Spock. So hot. So alive. So cold.
The commander came, they left; we stayed to fight.
And feet, my feet, kicking him over the chasm
I arrived as the world crumbled, not a moment too soon
Retrieving him alive was (you may say) a miracle.

All this was a long time ago. I remember,
And would do it all again, for him
But this set down
This: was I led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
Spock lives again, no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, our duties,
But no longer at ease with each other, the old traditions,
Alien people to each other, clutching at their past.
I should be glad of another death.

IF ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON WROTE K/S

When I was sick and lay a-bed,
All my fanzines at my head,
And action toys beside me lay
To keep me happy all the day.

I sometimes sent the ships in fleets,
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought out Klingons armed with knives,
And had them save each other lives.

Or sometimes when no one was home,
I let my plastic heroes roam,
In Starfleet uniforms and cover,
Among the sheets, one with the other.

On screen they must be kept apart,
Each time I watch it breaks my heart.
But there they had each other plain,
In my private land of counterpane.

Bibliography
For the interested, the original works may be found at:

1) Basho, Autumn Roads
2) cummings, one winter afternoon and a man who had fallen among thieves
3) Dickinson, I Had Been Hungry
4) T.S. Eliot, The Journey of the Magi
5) Shakespeare, Sonnet 87
6) Stevenson, The Land of Counterpane