I-I-I am-m-m-m a-a-a
l-l-l-likeness
without l-l-likeness.
I r-r-r-rule
the s-s-s-sea and the air.
I n-n-named a fish
and a b-bird and a stem,
and a f-f-foal by
the s-s-s-side of a m-m-mare.
My tongue was heavy, too heavy to move.
My feet were bound by roots,
but I learned to open my mouth
and sing,
to open my mouth like a bell, like
a flower.
What name shall I give to thee?
What name shall I compare to thee?
anise bee and cherry
dark and egg and free
ghost hand and icicle
jinx and kiss and lea
many none and other
pain question row
sadness tree unusual
verity and woe
x I signed,
a yawn and zed,
and then I went to bed.
What name shall I give to thee?
What name shall I compare to thee?
I saw the whale shed the waves,
I saw the hawk shed the rain,
and though I was never
born, the light came first
at the limit of my mind
and with my own eyes
I could see
how all things on earth
must turn
toward the light,
though the light
has no likeness
on earth.
Winter dream so sore
inside me, breath sharp
under my rib, a bent
stalk frozen
fast to another, snapped
back and lifted away,
then snow on her lashes and hair—
no, sun and dew
on her lashes,
her hair,
and the flies
buzzing in the grain
and the bees
grazing by the leaf
and the sweet dove
moaning
in the arbor.
I lifted my head to hear.
I awoke and she stood
before me, staring.
I awoke
and it all was true.
I could come upon a footprint now,
or take a turn, or find the start,
a name for something
even if it wasn’t
there, was not yet
here.
Do you know every herb and seed?
he asked as he walked in the cool of the evening
(This god has intent and direction,
he knows where he’s going in the cool of the evening)
Would you like to stay in the garden?
he asked as he walked in the cool of the evening
(This god has the leisure and means
to walk out alone in the cool of the evening)
There are two trees, but only one is of good and evil.
There are two trees, but only one is in the midst of the garden.
There are two trees, but only one is the tree of life.
Cherubim guard the gate and a sword
hangs crashed, hangs flailing, in flames.
Do you follow the deed with a double regret?
he asked as he walked in the cool of the evening
(This god cannot hide if he is everywhere,
he gathers his thoughts in the cool of the evening)
Cover your face with your hands and run,
cover yourselves and run.
ashes burrs and candle-
light, darkness endless fire
going home in
joy, I thought,
kindness leaves me now
only pity questions
rain speeds the tear
you will veer and
wander, veer and
wander …
ashes burrs and candlelight,
darkness ends
in fire, going
home in joy,
we thought, though
rain now, rain and tear.
A child of my right hand
walked among the sheep
and a child of my left hand
drove the plow—
they were brothers, sons
of the self-
same mother,
no two more alike
than each other, fraught
with the pain of too little
and too much, with the pain
of too much and too little.
The god chose meat
instead of fruit
and the child
of my left hand rose up
to kill the other,
the child of my left hand,
the farmer, slew his brother,
the shepherd, in fury.
The god chose meat
instead of fruit
and the earth was stained
forever—
stained with the pain
of too little and too late,
with the pain of too late
and too little.
When you sleep in your chair
by the firelight, when you wake
in the morning and hear
the geese returning,
think of the child,
your father,
who drove the plow,
and was driven to despair,
the despair of too much
and too little,
the despair of seasons,
too little and too late.
Think of the child,
your father,
think of the mother,
your child.