107.
From the arrow that flyeth by day on
the south wind
protect the cradle of the infant
thought the blue trees
reach down to us to stifle unbelief
throw your fishing rods away your
lariats
because everything but what you see
is real
deep in the truth of the unthought
Lila the uncontrived with whom we
play
night more than day and the wind
knows it all
broken clouds your mother on the
phone in every wind
islands change their flags like
underwear
we belong to nothing but the sea from
which we come
religion is an ailment of the
mainland only.
108.
Hydrangea Himalayan flower favorite
blue
has blossomed early in Tara’s gentle
hand
I saw her tossing them on the
hillside south of Sonada
and here by the sea in Betty’s other
garden
a few blue already the many on their
way
always like that, profit and
followers, udambara path
assigning meanings to each thing I go
ahead
listening to what I stumble through
leave the self out
have no favorite flower no mountains
no name at all
the names are all asleep in you
that’s why you love us best
the colors you chose to smash over
the world.
