300.
Something like a breeze through
people green as trees
this is your moment mother
before the flowers come and go
a life of gentlest waiting
like the hibiscus for its bee
a bird will do, anything I can say
you to
and love a little while, the mild
adultery of objects fondled then set
free
there is some moment in the stillest
things
we learned in the sacred tedium of
Sunday Mass
eloquent silences between the words
when the priest stopped mumbling and
held Something in his hands.
301.
But God is more personal than sex
when the outside and the inside are
the same
a horse you never heard of comes
rushing from the mountains
the comfort of enough against the ecstasy
of more
o horse you cry I will not ride today
but he thinks otherwise and there you
are aloft
the two of you above the hills beast
and human
who knows which is which a fable no
one ever tells
vanishing in blue distances song
fading
nobody knows nobody knows I hear the
dearest voice
laughing at the effort I put into
doing nothing
a snowstorm of images around a
freezing child.
