Her Wayward Learning

The Great Learning

comes from clarifying

clear intentions,

in loving people

and stopping at the end.

Know when to stop,

then you may be certain.

Be certain, then you may be clear.

Be clear, then you may be peaceful.

Be peaceful, then you may keep steady.

Keep steady, then you may accomplish.

When I hired Confucius to teach my son, the genie, this is what he told me:

He will impart to him articles of the Great Learning,

which have to do with final ends and the mystery of the beginning.
But Kung, I protested, for genies who have no learning,
is it wise to start so far a ways back, from the beginning?

And Kung said, “A genie who knows not his head from his feet,

shall reach no further than the origin of his feces.”

“Things have origins and endings.

Events have a finish and beginning.

Knowing which comes first and which comes after,
is the only way to distinguish your head from your tail."

Jeanie, who never learned the mystery of her own beginnings,

finds herself bottled, corked, and castaway—in paradise,

the fiftieth state. A story wherein silver falsies give her away,

and the local angels get the feeling, blondie’s not

from around these parts. Long and short of it

was, not everyone could say, “I’m a genie person.”

So the difference between greater and lesser

angelic orders was lost on Jeannie, the philistine.

After applying herself at Oahu, Huahlu, and Malahu,

Jeanie goes to Honolulu, a beach bum.

Gathering volcanic detritus by night,

she builds a driftwood fire and resumes,

seated, sorting the white sands from the black.