from which one falls
back to the practiced earth
as a sleeper
wakes into the grain of day.

2.
The tiger walks around the house at night,
stops at the doorway and looks in
to watch the peaceful sleepers breathe—
how sweet the breath of humans is
when they sleep! Sugar of dream,
oil of darkness, horizontal innocence—
he is content, turns and pads away
down the hallway no one knows.

3.
These things will happen us
until we rouse.
And even then the night
is full of plebiscites and fall elections
the day must bear to love with,
find your way home,
finish the food on your plate
if you can find it. And so on.
The dream broke like an egg
and you fell out—
that’s what the doctor told me
when I asked was I OK.
Daytime is dangerous
I think she meant, the sun
sees everything and remembers.

4.
Away with wee fears,
the everlasting fire
the sky catches its light from
sustains the toad
or whatever kind of creature
you think you are.
Fear is good for you,
you notice more and jabber less,
lie in the lap of the biggest fear
and suddenly there is nothing
there at all, just you at peace
in the blue sky, shapely clouds
here and there, all the answers
everywhere, ready for your questions.

5.
The sermon ended,
I looked around to see
what would-be god
had spoken so, I saw
my own shadow on the rock,
a rock I didn’t know was there,
a world simple with surprises.

6.
In the old days they thought
the sun was a sweet tear drop
from a ring of holy fire
around everything that exists.
They thought the mind
could find its way
disguised as soul
out to the limits of that fire
and know itself suddenly
part of what it beheld.

7.
The women and men who had
gone there and come back
did not have much to say.
Go, see for yourselves—
that seemed to sum up their report,
Go, be a soul and travel,
slip through the cage of the actual,
be a new being and come back.
How long will it take, we used to ask—
Between one breath and the next
you can go there and live there
and grow old there and come home.

11 September 2020