Pond Song 4.24

Time is graced. G&B 246


hot sun cool May morning__raw aluminum meanders

slick across the mudflats__a trickle of tide in my ears


between hair-splitting bird cries__shallows Basho-praised

under light-shedding clouds__the shit-brown bottom raised



Pond Song 4.23

If we make from something, how ‘make’ from nothing, hence how conceive of radical creation. G&B 245



pond brims new shoots__birds play tiny cymbals

bees roam fresh grass__phosphorous blooms symbols


of man’s stupdity__it’s an ant’s world

each self a perspective__pond scum light-pearled





Pond Song 4.22


“ . . . the origin, in coming forward, also seems to retreat into its own reserve, as it initimates itself in the signs of things.” G&B 246


too early on Children’s Day__festivities a few hours off

the pond emptying fast__in the absence of birds, enough


blue spaces to count the clouds__over mudflats smeared with cream

and the green of spartina shoots__shadow of a gull’s scream

Pond Song 4.21


Far from being captive to the idol, creation shatters all idols. G&B 242



another steel gray day__light rain crinkles the pond

sand pipers dart low__peep peep crossing beyond


the speed they travel at__to the far end I go

where two stand in the shallows__there’s hardly any flow


these peeps jump in place__reversed in reflected light

brighter than the originals__I laugh creation’s insight