^{after “The First Time You Hold a Gun”}

My mother’s heartbeat
the first time I heard a baseline.
Her womb, the first room I danced in.
How did it go again?
Kick cloud-soft twirl
stretch
dark gulf
neon on my clay brain.
Kick . . . Then
the melody drops
& her vocals come in.

[VERSE 1]

There will be strife,
burnt days, a God
besides me
sex & crueler colours
than the abyss
but there will be this.

The dead do
     what they want
which is nothing—

sit there, mantled,
     or made real
by photographs

in silver frames,
     or less real
by our many ministrations.

Dusting. Bleach. The world
     swept, ordered,
seemingly unending.

The dead, listless,
     lazy, grow tired
& turn off the TV—

or like a father passed
     out in an easy chair
during the evening news

      what’s watched now
does the watching.

The great thing
is not having
a mind. Feelings:
oh, I have those; they
govern me. I have
a lord in heaven
called the sun, and open
for him, showing him
the fire of my own heart, fire
like his presence.
What could such glory be
if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters,
were you like me once, long ago,
before you were human? Did you
permit yourselves
to open once, who would never
open again? Because in truth
I am speaking now
the way you do. I speak
because I am shattered.

And a man said, Speak to us of Self-Knowledge.
And he answered, saying:
Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.
But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart’s knowledge.
You would know in words that which you have always known in thought.
You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.

And it is well you should.
The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;
And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.
But let there be no scales ot weigh your unknown treasure;
And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.
For self is a sea boundless and measureless.

Say not, “I have found the truth,” but rather, “I have found a truth.” 
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul.” Say rather, “I have met the soul walking upon my path.”
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.

The searchlights ask the stars nothing

Among them going,

Tell them nothing, their sign of show

Being for more particular sight below.

Show, show, say they to the sight

Through the lamplight,

Raying cloud, cloud, and cloud to wake and start

The after-dinner heart.

There is stir in the driveways and rustle of departing,

With the hearts starting,

And sight can almost see, ear hear, at the lights’ core

Gathering, shining, what the lights are searching for.

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

just say my subject is grief

it comes as a strike

leaves stricken

like an aircraft

afflicted

as Jupiter is

in opposition to Mars

these examples may lead to landing

on the floor

a puddle I try to reconstruct

from willed emotions

don’t bother says speech

it’s only worry the thing is done

I get along without

the provision of what is unnecessary

prayer all along

hoisting bodies to sky

as they were inhumed

I can keep this up

as long

as death

a book

unreadable from this distance

go try anyway

the rain heaves

something is not shut

the library downstairs only goes to S