Isn't the moon dark too
most of the time?
And doesn't the white page
seem unfinished
without the dark stain
of alphabets?
When God demanded light
he didn't banish darkness.
Instead he invented
ebony and crows
and that small mole
on your left cheekbone.
Or did you mean to ask,
"Why are you sad so often?"
Ask the moon.
Ask what it has witnessed.
Some herons
were fishing
in the robes
of the night
at a low hour
of the water's body,
and the fish, I suppose,
were full
of fish happiness
in those transparent inches
even as, over and over,
the beaks jacked down
and the narrow
bodies were lifted
with every
quick sally,
and that was the end of them
as far as we know_
though, what do we know
except that death
is so everywhere and so entire-
pummeling and felling,
or sometimes,
like this, appearing
through such a thin door-
one stab, and you're through!
and what then?
Why, then it was almost morning,
and one by one
the birds
opened their wings
and flew.
there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
a space
and even during the
best moments
and
the greatest
times
we will know it
we will know it
more than
ever
there will be a place in the heart that
will never be filled
and
we will wait
and
wait
in that space.
I own a house, small but comfortable. In it is a bed, a desk,
a kitchen, a closet, a telephone. And so forth - you know
how it is; things collect.
Outside the summer clouds are drifting by, all of them
with vague and beautiful faces. And there are the pines
that bush out spicy and ambitious, although they do not
even know their names. And there is the mockingbird;
over and over he rises from his thorn-tree and dances - he
actually dances, in the air. And there are days I wish I
owned nothing, like the grass.
Be still, my soul, and steadfast.
Earth and heaven both are still watching
though time is draining from the clock
and your walk, that was confident and quick
has become slow.
So, be slow if you must, but let
the heart still play its true part.
Love still as once you loved, deeply
and without patience. Let God and the world
know you are grateful.
That gift has been given.
When I moved from one house to another
there were many things I had no room
for. What does one do? I rented a storage
space. And filled it. Years passed.
Occasionally I went there and looked in,
but nothing happened, not a single
twinge of the heart.
As I grew older the things I cared
about grew fewer, but were more
important, So one day I undid the lock
and called the trash man. He took
everything.
I felt like the little donkey when
his burden is finally lifted. Things!
Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful
fire! More room in your heart for love,
for the trees! For the birds who own
nothing-the reason they can fly.
I have refused to live
locked in the orderly house of
reason and proofs.
The world I live in and believe in
is wider than that. And anyway,
what's wrong with Maybe?
You wouldn't believe what once or
twice I have seen. I'll just
tell you this:
only if there are angels in your head will you
ever possibly, see one.
This morning the redbirds's eggs
have hatched and already the chicks
are chirping for food. They don't
know where it's coming from, they
just keep shouting, "More! More!"
As to anything else, they haven't
had a single thought. Their eyes
haven't yet opened, they know nothing
about the sky that's waiting. Or
the thousands, the millions of trees.
They don't even know they have wings.
And just like that, like a simple
neighborhood event, a miracle is
taking place.
Lie back daughter, let your head
be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
Gently, and I will hold you. Spread
your arms wide, lie out on the stream
and look high at the gulls. You will dive
and swim soon enough where this tidewater
ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe
me, when you tire on the long thrash
to your island, lie up, and survive,
As you float now, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you,
lie gently and wide to the light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.
Love the quick profit, the annual rise
vacation with pay, want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
anymore. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So friends, everyday do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone that does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered, he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant
that you did not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they are rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to the carrion - put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be Joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child.
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth.
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and politicos
can predict the motions of your mind
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks then necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice ressurection.
