all these little gods — Pond Song 4.51

Pond Song 4.50


The pan(en)theistic holism stems from the dynamism of becoming towards a perfecting consummation, the hyberbole’s thought of creation stems from the enigma of the arising of becoming itself, in the first place. God and the Between 248


all these little gods__bark of dog yelp of child

mallard’s belly-laugh__are nothing to the wild


brightness of the thaw__mudflats’ sudden green

surplus to what is given__which is not what I mean





Pond Song 4.50

Pond Song 4.50

The jolt puts us on edge on a tight rope, one side nothing, the other side exceeding life. G&B 249

ice necklace high tide__faceless nickle pond
last stop for the moon’s urge__capital’s fond

dream of creative destruction__nothing profits dooms
this place to be no place__underwater rooms

open as the tide goes out__out there silver threads
one tuxedo one gray__a pair of buffleheads

skies appear and roads



Reserved in the porosity is the pure trust, the pure yes. G&B 257


the pond at low tide__broken clouds bright puddles

a crow flies over slowly__a gull settles


down in black water__big oil behind

the rainbows at your feet__the heart resigns


returns to the void__across the shallows clouds

move beyond the shadows__skies appear and roads


Pond Song 4.48


Absolute absolving power is agapeic as power that gives the power to give. G&B 254



pond bottomless snow clouds__rain thickens white

and sticks on my face__shadowless absolving light


pale gyrations of silent gulls__widen as the winds build

over the slack gun-metal pond__empty and light-filled


at last I live by the river__the power I once had I’ve lost

bricks laid for the worst weather__after this tea and toast




Pond Song 4.47


Everything points to an affirmative giving of otherness as itself affirmative . . . G&B 254


the religious say just do it__runners in day-glo fleece

and shades crowd the path__no matter what brings peace


cut out against October glare__I see it through silver grass

the immobility of a great blue__mudflat’s glowing mass


this Sunday’s wild communion__this gift of otherness received

the heron’s awkward lift-off__more than one had believed




People say to you when you raise the possibility of doing something– say, getting pregnant, or drunk– just do it! I call these The Religious ( full of faith in all things). Then that thesis is developed in a series of examples: jogging, whatever brings you peace, just do it; then the poem takes a turn, the”it” is seen not in mobility/activity but in the heron ‘s immobility. So, just how do we do immobility? Meditation? Prayer?  The rest of the poem suggests a parody or subversion of conventional communion–or a reimagining of communion. But then “it” sort of explodes– the heron leaves the scene, awkwardly, thus freeing the observer from worshipping its perfect immobility.

And I would argue that this is a true version of communion and there’s real peace– again not soporific — in the more-ness envisioned in the last half line.