on the other side of the wall
For coral to take
the long-submerged chains,
something living
had to cling.
On the dry side of the wall,
someone asked
what the babies were eating.
No one answered.
Another question:
Did their eyes look back?
But who
are these
circled moments
in the widening arc?
Look.
Down.
What moves—
low,
ready?
A body bends
against sorrow,
unsure which world
it woke in.
The bars
held only flesh.
What else
we were sometimes
slipped through.
inbeing
breath of air
brush of skin
tap of wet
cup of water
hand to mouth
face to cat
ear to whale
swerve to dance
in flight
in dream
in song
in throat
of blood
gone
loosed
Pilgrim, artist, lover.
Between the first and the last of anything worthwhile, most of what happens is a series of endlessly radiating paths, brilliant branches of first light and with these, miles upon acres of decisions––each loaded with portent and potential for disaster––and enough interruptions to challenge anybody with a scrap of sense to doubt their reasons for starting.
These hazardous undertakings are, it turns out, so utterly compelling that it cannot be helped. This is what we do: remake our worlds again, and again, either refusing the call to witness or taking it so fully to heart that the act evokes its full muscularity, the labor of it reminding with each strain, how difficult it is to bear these beams––even of light, especially when looking long and well.
***
Inspired variously, including by William Blake: “We are put on the earth a little space/ That we may learn to bear the beams of love.”
Let’s go! someone said, meaning to the apocalypse. I thought it was coming to us.
Let’s go! someone said, meaning to the apocalypse.
I thought it was coming to us.
Sure, but let’s meet it.
What do we bring?
Whatever you want. Everything! But you may have to check it at the door.
Will there be snacks?
No, just a single unrestricted feast.
Dress code?
The less, the better.
What else?
Bring every ending, every lilting note of your unuttered cry––
What about the pets?
Well, obviously the dog comes with.
And the cat?
You know cats. I suggested this morning and she just gave me a look.
Like, “Again with this apocalypse?”
I think she’s probably done a few already.
What about the sleeping arrangements?
Have you been listening? Who’s sleeping?
Will there be singing?
At first, only silence, and then, there will only be singing.
