Grace

Grace


the night that is light upon us
the world that is spared
the firstborn of everything

the sum of specified order
flawless in every moment
the excellence and beauty of chance

the immanent reconciliation
of power and glory
the bitter experience

the urgent agenda of the elements
and the four forces of nature
the hiding place

the nearness of green pastures
the unified field
the flute by itself

the holiness of wild things
the short list of mortal entitlements
the humane door of sleep

the certainty of death

Old Oranges

Old Oranges


And so it was

on a Sunday before sunrise
with the moon in the Lion's House,
the Maker of Moons watched the world,
told a story: In the beginning
were old oranges
round as moons, thick skins waxy and pitted
as the thick hides of pigs
that squeal and roll among
acorns and table scraps,
curled peelings of potatoes
bread ends
and carrot tops --
soft, decaying moons,
secondaries, rolling
like the nine moons of Saturn,
the twelve moons of Jupiter,
the two moons of Mars,
in the beneficent slops
where their primaries, the pigs
did paw and root.

And they saw
that it was good.

Saint Francis Preaches to the Rats

for they are the fastidious Brotherhood
of Long-tailed Rodents of the genus Rattus.
He gathers them in a social equivalent
of Congregation. He speaks

but words do not matter. He leaves them
a simple message of breathing: Noble Brothers,
Blessed Sisters, you Nation of Rats,
Give thanks.

And he walks among them, touching
their heads and their tails
with his tunic. He leaves them
his testimony of fallibility, commitment,

and co-operative behavior.
He asks nothing for his sermon. In return
they give him nothing.
On occasion they look back upon

their vulnerable selves
with no clue what is going on but
a wish: escape and a quick lunch
of malt from the miller's bags.

For the Holy Spirit Loves the Rat

UNEARTHING
This raw
wild beast that pants
and prowls unleashed
and roars
in me, and leaves
clawed footprints
on my soul
does not know
that somewhere
between the convulsive howls,
soft in this foul and dark
and hairy den, within
this pile of bones
I grow unseen
newfledged and untried
wings.

LIST

Don't ask, "Are you afraid?"--
everyone is afraid. Ask, Where
can we find to run?"


-William Stafford
More than Words Can Tell



"Where to run?" Stuck here
in our five-dimensional lives
enfolded in a multi-dimensional universe
we run, eat, sleep, make love,
and wonder. We lie in our beds
and watch the light creep in
illuminating cracks on the walls and the
maculate ceilings as continents, faces,
emblems, and chronicles, interpreting them
as Signs. We hear dogs barking,
touch one another, cry, say goodbye, run, pray,
write poems, ask questions, make lists,
and run, as if any of these things might suggest
true exploration of what really is,
as if they might be messages
from some far star
that will help us understand Where?
And Why?
.

Lucanus cervus, stag beetles - fighting

Lucanus cervus, stag beetles - fighting
Originally uploaded by byot

Lucanus cervus, Stag Beetles Fighting

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