Saturday, October 24, 2009
All of this happens behind the Gods’ empty, empty pupil,
Look back over your shoulder //The polar ice caps are melting for good but tonight
////.//I’ll disappear into shelf after continental shelf of glacial ice collapsing: into 2 bodies,
I thought I reached the reservoir (gone) I felt North in my coat the mapped currents (gone)
in my pocket where I thought drought they the city thought druthers (gone) you greenlawn
bastards there will be no more (ok?) (gone) there will be no more
On Vernon solar panel power flashes amber light where children cross, safely, to school.
These routes of beauty, congested with my own car’s emissions.
My children, our world, their future.
The cool field of grass, once where you loved. Watermark. The sky
never left your mind. And out to the hotpink sea the boats had gone. Doves
among the surefooted parakeets and finches shivered and sang. Goddamn. Where, in the weedgreen traces did you go.
I wash with the ancient glacial font blessed from traveled and recessive atmospheres that now evaporate like insense.
I capture winds off Michigan; debride the rusty wounds and grow crops where angry metal plants once stood.
But now you want my water . . .
EMERGENCY POSTCARD TO THE TRANSCENDENT O!
Can I still wake up joyous in the tomorrow morning of tomorrow & write
an effusive blurting: “O good morning &, yes, what a big bright sun &, yes,
trees & leaves & O untroubled sky & O lovely day, lovely lovely day!”
Or do I write it not effusive, not joyous?
We manage tide. We thread the water through these sieves we sit upon to solve it. We unravel
what the sea thrusts knotted on us, combing current from the waves, distill the node
the spiders sift for, pluck the crystal to resolve and claim
our prize, our salt sparkling.