1.
Among the river gods
we revere one on the other side,
hair in the eye,
slothful argument.
We know her name
and that eases our debate,
we saw her ride from the shallows
and in some glory ascend
into the forest of all the rest of us.

2.
Is the will free,
is free will ever so,
is there a willer in us
all clean and unimpeded?
That’s what we had to solve
in the sanhedrin of the dream
all night long.

3.
Better, I thought,
to watch her
as long as she was visible
among the woodlots,
unmistakable shimmer of her going.
No, the will is not free yet.

4.
Consider the shale beds
behind your house,
little cliff, a man could fall
and still survive, maybe hurt
a bone or two on that descent.
How each century left its stone
identity for the next to cover
and nice fresh living dirt
fills the crannies with grass
and soon flowers. Earth
tries to help us understand the will.

5.
Those who dare to sleep
athwart or across the meridians
rather than aligned with the poles
endure fierce dreams.
Your choice, dear friend.
The howl still hurts my head.

6.
Texts were being offered
burnt with reverence
on an altar some ways ahead.
A friend took one of mine
and hurried on. I stood,
feeling weak, my work done,
in the woods. I perched
on a stool by the path, knew
something had begun.
In monasteries they call it the retreat.

7.
The postcard said
You are always halfway home.
But where is she
or he who wrote it
and why no signature,
just a picture of the river,
Danube I guess,
but east of Budapest.

8.
So where had my will gone,
Voluntas mea, when I needed
her so badly in the woods,
I mean the woods on this side,
not across the river.
These trees, the exact
inscription of their bare
branches on the ever-patient sky,
where is she when I need her well,
I read what things are saying
but till she comes close
I cannot speak a word.
Or so it seems. I clutch
the tree trunk and call again.
And this too is a word, isn’t it?

9.
So be careful where you wake
after you’ve been sleeping.
The will wanders, daylight
wields confusions of its own.
If you sleep on your back
who is that you spot on the ceiling?
If you sleep on your side
what is that on which you turn your back?
Nothing’s easy, the machine
keeps running, you start to remember.
And maybe your pillow
still has news for you.

14 January 2021