On Writing
Think of the way pigeons all seek sky
in a single flurry of wings, a chaos
with order in its heart, not chaos at all.
Or think of a lone raven gliding on currents
high above the desert, no discernible purpose,
simply the joy of riding the wind.
What strange intelligence inhabits the world,
how foreign to my little synapses,
yet something in my flesh feels connected.
I cannot grasp it, my need for language
obscures the simplest things, for instance
rain: no words can convey wet on skin.
We try to give voice to that which
intrigues us, makes us wonder; we struggle
to conform lines to speak that which is silent.
A futile quest. Much like a koan, it
isn't the solution that matters most, only
the turning in the mind of subtle mysteries.
I'm also grateful today for V-8 juice. I can be very lazy about cooking vegetables, but at least with V-8, I get some veggies.
What are you grateful for today?
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2 comments:
I too am grateful for V-8 juice. I also love your poem, Bill.
i am grateful that i have one more hour to do things than anticipated. that i get to spend time with my grandson today. that i'll see a very close friend of mine today.
that you provide a space to talk about gratitude.
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