Poem in four characters. Above heaven, big winds.
Poem in three characters. Above canyons, storms.
Messieurs, it was an artificial world. Dodging the deer,
Hail, and lightning high up the canyon to catch sight
Of the waterfalls at dusk last night, body thought again
Of all the mice I'd set free only to survive such storms,
Of the poems when I'd imagined god as a mouse alone,
Body as a mouse, the odds against all or any one of us
Escaping intact. Hail battered the already well-dented car
And the lightning kept convincing me all was about to crash.
Body thought of Stevens' good and evil, reality and imagination,
And it was all one whirl of the flood pouring mud through the dark.
By midnight, wind scoured out the clouds, shook the frail gates,
Tossed body in dreams, body in and out of awareness, froze
What had fallen. The walls of the canyons slipped, just a bit.
Poem in four characters. Woke up this morning.
The good was evil's best invention, not the last. Woke up
This morning. Saw blue sky walking like a man.
No comments:
Post a Comment