To the Hyphenated Poets

Richer than mother's milk is half-and-half. Friends of two minds, redouble your craft. Our shelves our hives, our selves a royal jelly, may we at Benares and Boston, Philly and Delhi collect our birthright nectar. No swarm our own, we must be industrious, both queen and drone. Being two beings requires a rage for rigor, rewritable memory, hybrid vigor. English herself is a crossbred mother mutt, primly promiscuous and hot to rut. Oneness? Pure chimera. Splendor is spliced. Make your halves into something twice your size, your tongue a hyphen joining nation to nation. Recombine, become a thing of your own creation, a many-minded mongrel, the line's renewal, self-made and twofold, soul and dual.