from CALLS

I could sit here and hunt for dawn
comes easily these days
or sleep my way to Jericho again

Where Moses’ daughters rise
a cunning school for love’s diplomacy
and otherworldly wisdoms all combined

they let me in some nights
let me interrogate them
in my broken Hebrew to learn how,

just how.  For they know everything
again.  Small school all white adobe
shadowy within, we see by skinlight,

read by the light left in our eyes
by years of looking outward.

from CALLS

You can tell he’s near the end
he’s starting to make sense
abbreviate the obvious!

The leaf covers itself with gold
I call it dawn rain birds in a bush
things that mean little last forever

lost on the railroad like Bruckner’s hat
found on the shore like a baby seal
I can show you pictures of the world,

priest carrying the sacrament to a dying man.

from CALLS

I pressed the eject button, put myself to sleep.
And there you are again,
lost brother, woman cousin, inconnue.
So many animals in my zoo
with me, and I who own the lot
live in the smallest cage.
Jone’s Bienenkorb and we have heard her hum.
He said, and I supposed the lecture ended
but I was still talking:

from CALLS

then
something happened
and
beauty lasted longer than itself
and
gave us to think.
There
are not many roads to silence
and
music is the sweetest of them
though
the longest
with
pretty girls and boys along the way,
fangless
wolves and paper forests
a
pirate ship in every bathtub
and
no more war.
I
touched my hand
I
wondered who it was.
We
don’t have to know all the names
but
they all are blessing us at once —
what
else is a name for?

from CALLS

It’s
all a fugue and everything
has
to come
again
and again through all the doors.
Look
out all the windows,
sleep
in all the beds,
hide
in the cellar and run out over and over
because
that is the nature of nature
the
minute you let it
turn
into the oldest music.
There
was no music before Bach
or
maybe Biber,
just
people being beautiful out loud
then
something happened
and
beauty lasted longer than itself