a reprise of some recent poems
from Lacunae
Time’s Favor, etc.
—regarding Χρόνος
What, exactly, does time favor as it chirps along,
a dimly feathered flying thing undaunted by the blood
and dust collecting on its wings? Clearly, none of us.
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Clearly, none of us much figures in whatever calculus
obtains within the blithe arc that passes among certain
not-so-discerning congregations as Providence.
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Providence may actually be a thing, but proves nothing
I can wrap my thought around in terms of time.
That is to say, the God does not appear to manifest a timely care,
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no timely care concurrent with any given, pressing need.
I’m not indicting Him, just saying that His patent mystery
remains apparently unattached to what we know as time.
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The phenomenon of time continues ticking in perplexity,
as I, a fool, stare blinking, hopeful that love obtains despite
unpromising appearances, for so I have been told.
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Appearances
When what the heart most craves, most covets, yet appears
as but a glimmer of our famous, undisclosed
and self-withholding Agent, full-ensconced behind
each opaque appearance, then each moot scene is felt
to be a puzzle, and largely disappointing.
-
You there—your thumbs fixed in wonted opposition—
you may as well relax a bit, or maybe get
a grip. Maybe it’s enough to observe how all
available appearances appear to glare,
poised, availing a passing sense of raison d’etre?
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At least—perhaps at best—one might extend one brave,
solicitous hand to whatever hand yet bides
behind the thinning, the sorely tattered curtain.
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Good Will, Good Fortune
Once you quit the gravel road, stepping first
onto the game trail parsing the salal,
you have agreed already to welcome
what is so rarely approached, if in some
deep sense familiar. The damp earth beneath
your boots is oddly welcoming, the damp
leaves against your thighs a lingering kiss.
And the keen scents of earth, of animal,
and conifer join your breath, softening
your sensible departure from the road.
-
If you’re lucky, you may see just how much
the woodpecker clinging to the hemlock
trunk proves so very like the hemlock trunk;
If you’re lucky, you’ll observe how even
the hemlock, as well as the cedar, fir,
alder, the sword fern, bracken, and scattered
huckleberry all bear such numinous
life as the adamant woodpecker now
clinging to each subtle undulation
of the hemlock trunk. Yes, all this, with luck.