It is in the depths of idiotic intimacy that the deepest drama of converse with the divine happens. G&B 261

South pond lit by high clouds__rustications of ocean breeze

light splinters as it passes__it takes an idle mind to seize

sweet nothings out of all this__such surplus of immediacy

out of many tall dry grasses__one bends under a chickadee

Being that is no-being is most clearly evident in human being. God and the Between, 263

from the hill above the pond__go! starts a human race

splitting the air for charity__the pond empties in any case

the runners disappear for good__in the ribbed shallows light plays

a crow appears on a dry rock__irridescent black and stays

There is always something more and other. G&B 271

bright houses upside down__at my feet soaking grasses array

off-white chemical scuds__at the outlet water marbles

clockwise and counterclockwise__gallaxies of whirlpools

high clouds in the breathless pond__shadow of wings away

the descending triplet rising__there’s always something more

and other to what happens__that song hangs in the air

low tide and Spring haze__mudflat’s crumpled foil

dull sheen of meanders__think Meister Eckhart’s boil

in the confusion of that zero__after love love may recover

in the shine of empty shallows__white egrets leap and hover