You will find that all things follow their path.
And though their origins may be hidden,
Do not doubt.
Do you not see the puddle's source in the slashing trace of rain?
Though the clouds are distant,
Do not fix your eyes below.
In the provision of all this,
Plenty and greed in equal measure,
Does not God hand out our deaths?
An old man on the warehouse road
Sows crumbs before a flock of geese.
Why do I cry?
This trinket so beloved, a dove turning on its beak
Has fallen; I see
The wings of the dove in flight
A drawn bow
The laws of turning fail,
The dervish stumbles and vomits.
My flail I swing
My arm I flail
Both lie weakly now
The bulk of Goliath cannot the sling raise
The stones of the ground remain
And tremble.
In the pub so long ago, to my comrades, I prayed
"Free me from the poverty of translation"
Denatured words,
Surely, but in my own:
Let us burn the phrase book of weakness
Embrace strength,
Surely the sun and steel may,
In time, be ours,
Though the enemy lays claim.
The words tumble down a slope of affect,
Piddling at my comrades' feet.
Banknotes blossom in my hand,
I tip the barmaid,
Burn one in a gas lamp.
Silently exit to the twilit nighttime-morning streets
I am in that dream again,
Alone, Satan
Pqndaemonium emptied, I
Pick up my toy dove,
Its bolt clatters from the vault
The vault so high
Pierced still
By God's eye.
In that firmament, circles in circles
Every iris, every color
Whirling splitting and re-fusing
In its will the rain
In this rain the sea
In the sea a puddle
Rippling on the warehouse street.
The rain is falling now
MY LORD
GRANT US SUCH STRENGTH
AS MUSCLE EXCEEDS BONE
IN THE SELF-SHATTERING OF THE LIMB
WE GROW FREE
FOREVER
THE RAIN IS FALLING NOW
(An arterial torrent calls me East
To the Dniepr and Jordan,
Greeting oppressor and oppressed, lost family)
LET THE TIDES OF THIS SEA
BURST THE BANKS
BREAK THE LIMB
SHATTER THE VAULT
OF FUNDAMENT