Do they, Dr. Einstein, cling
to the nostril wall until
dessication overbalances the force
of adhesion against gravity, and
they fall on someone’s floor?
How can one equate
the working-out
of natural law with
a clean, scoured, functional nostril or
the pleasure of finger food?
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‘O My Beloved –
yet cannot find the One in my restless mind –I am in a desert place, a place of desolation… ’My Beloved saidsee the reeds, gently swaying like swooning dervisheson the river bank, their feet in the water –a man could sit for hours and watch them –are they not beautiful?See now the reed-flute, so carefully…
Eden lives.. in the misty
of Papua New Guinea..with its community of living thingsliving in what, hunger apart, seemsto be harmonious balanceawaiting, unperturbed,Man:adorable, begging to be cloned,kangaroos that climb trees(it almost ranks asshowing off at Nature’sOlympic Games) : mammalsthat lay eggs as easily asa chicken crosses the roadto take a drink of milk;and just the merest touchof more obvious Darwinian…
O Lord, You are my own self..
and that’s about the measure of it:if I were to speak of You, or praise You,I would speak verbs, and nouns, and sentences;remind me, Lord, that every verbspeaks of, and yet hides,Your Creating, here and now;that every noun speaks of, and hidesthe single every name of You;that every sentence describes, hides,Your Creation and its beauty;so…
unknown; formless;
who may think of it?who may speak of it?who may not think of it?who may not speak of it?where is it?where is it not?when is it?when is it not?what is it?what is it not?who is it?who is it not?when other is oneand there is hereand that is thisand then is nowand poets are silentand silence…
That’s the word we use
of the old rubber-squeezed car hornon the outside, by the driving seatof the old battered Fordand unforgettably for the anguished heart,the bugle on the battlefieldas stretcher-bearers move in gathering dusk,the final drawn-out, liquid, haunting pa-a-a-rp…. dies awayto pregnant, bloody silence;death after life; life after death.and then the sound of the civilian trumpetin the days of…
As the cool dawn brings the light
meets the sand that time and man have brought,and you wake the camel boyto lead the camels from the waterside –before you mount the lurching beastand sway off into the desert on your path,the camel-bells tinkling on the harness,look into the camel’s eyes.There you will see mingled,pride in its being; patience in its duty.The wise…