Meadowsweet all battered

Pond Song 3.54

 

Openness such that it seems there is nothing there, but the nothing is the silence into which the fulness of the reserved divinity is worded.  G&B 274

 

meadowsweet all battered__old oak branches hang broken

that microburst hit home__crazy words stick once spoken

 

the pond almost empty__not a pond really a pool

child of sea and moon__a gull takes short steps to feel

 

good stuff on the bottom__the Sabbath silence sings

neighborhood crows and sparrows__the way a boy’s bat pings

 

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Pond full tide going out

New Pond Song 3.53

 

The human . . . is the indwelling of the transhuman. G&B

 

pond full tide going out__bright scum broken clouds

ducks asleep on dry rocks__chemical bloom crowds

 

the shallow end hic sunt dracones__swimming against the current

a small mallard head blazing__that dark green heaven sent

 

High clouds in the mudflats

New Pond Song 3.52

 

There can be dialectical idols  G&B 271

 

high clouds in the mudflats__an egret turns in a pool

this thin white vertical__a day people call beautiful

 

there’s a bench in the bright sun__a young man sits at an angle

there talking softly to himself__the egret flies with legs adangle

 

 

Hot spell and nothing happening

Pond Song 3.51

 

Hot spell and nothing happening__a pond full of hazy skies

air thickens in tall grasses __beach roses flutter in the breeze

 

and a bee is thrown off course__where the tide left algae bloom

a swallowtail zig zags__space opens another room

 

a slight switch in the ordinary__ there’s an invitation to just sit

things sway in unsteady strangeness__not as I’d imagine it

Steady Hush in Fresh Oak Leaves (3.50)

Pond Song 3:50

There is no identity that is the measure of the original. G&B 271

 

steady hush in fresh oak leaves__far away traffic above

my head as I sit here thinking__there’s nothing I’m thinking of

 

but requires a new strange “is” __when I look up suddenly

the egret has left the pond__a tern twists away to the sea