Philosopher Stone by G. Louis Heath

The philosopher who spoke carried such conviction

in his words, I even doused my cigarette and stopped

thinking sexual thoughts about the woman nearby.

That for me is real attention. Pitch black outside, I

imagined this hall a deep shaft in a gold mine. We had

gathered as Miners of Reality, Seekers of The Truth.

I yearned to mine nuggets to guide my life, a true train  

wreck.

The best-selling pop philosopher at the lectern in hunter-green

business suit—a power suit who does power lunches?—plied

his philosopher stone over a long train of high-octane thoughts.

He went on over an hour. Still, no thought, no word turned gold

as flies buzzed in the stale, muggy air.

G. Louis Heath, Ph.D., Berkeley, 1969, is Emeritus Professor, Ashford University, Clinton, Iowa. He enjoys reading his poems at open mics. He often hikes along the Mississippi River, stopping to work on a poem he pulls from his back pocket, weather permitting. He has published poems in a wide variety of online literary journals.