The rain isn’t falling in huge amounts, but there’s enough of it every day to keep things glistening and drenched. There are piles of ice storm debris to attend to, but getting to them leaves deep footprints, where miniature lakes form, not in the shape of Italy’s boot, but in Oregon’s mud-and-moss-encrusted hiking shoe. And so that work waits — or, rather, the worker waits, while the debris does what it is designed to do: inspire the worker, feed the invisible millions, and sink back into the fertile earth. This, also, is what the worker is designed to do, and can and will do, to the degree that he accepts the simple truth that life will go on and the world will be fine with and without him.
February 27, 2021
The Greatest of All Gifts
Last night there came a dream
in which I was granted the greatest of all gifts:
my mortality. I washed myself to prepare,
and, in the act of washing, I let go
of every care.
I carefully soaped my hair.
I did not wish, or try, to defend myself;
I took no courage; I felt no fear.
No death wish, or life wish,
And when, suddenly, so unexpectedly,
my eyes opened on the night, there was no relief,
or start, or fright.
Only joy, as a song feels,
when its voice is taking flight.
Recently Banned Literature, May 14, 2015
Neat and Deep
How the earth, a living thing, herself the offspring
of an imagining so vast, grants her mortality in the wonder
of a falling leaf; and how we, in graveyards neat
and deep, sing her joy, and sing
Recently Banned Literature, November 1, 2014
Imagine the Sun
Imagine the sun
aware of its mortality,
counting the days,
and how it feels
when your blinds
Recently Banned Literature, June 12, 2014
[ 1033 ]