July 2011

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The noisy lawn

Sometimes I mow the lawn
the opposite way to
cope with the monotony
or I do the edges first
along the flowerbeds
around the cedars and
the big silver maple that
stands like God at the corner
of Millview and Arthur
the idea always to
shorten the unending hour
that I must push the mower
sometimes it works
sometimes I go elsewhere
revisiting old friends
in far off places or
composing a list
of things for dinner
the hour can pass in a song
that never stops playing
a letter I will never
write to the editor
or in a flash as when
I have mowed each inch
across the face of
the haughty director
I was once required
to work with – though
that was long ago when
I allowed him for a time
to live rent free in my head
the lawn is devious
it has a button
that it turns up slowly
a little each day
until the weekend arrives
and the noise is deafening
thus, I turn it down again

© 2011

The god I know

The god I know I do not know
it has no hands or face
no eyes, no voice, no words
to wash the mysteries down
no songs of time or rhyme
no place to mark the spot
where I should stop
and know myself at last.
It is a flame I cannot see
or taste or touch
or hear or breathe
except through flowers
by the waterfall where
the day dies sweet and red
as honey on my tongue.
I sense soft lands
as rich as these beyond
the quivering stars which
stun my eyes and sprinkle
questions without answers
to infinity. I dream of
gleaming sands on
azure shores, heaped up
by all the prayers of all
the pilgrims through the ages,
and I yearn to know
all the ancient secrets
that taunt my wanderings
and trail my footsteps
across this restless realm.
I crave infinity but
infinity does not crave me
and the god whose eyes
I cannot see looks out from
every pounding heartbeat
and seems not to intervene.

© 2011