The skiff rides inside a wave
of sand. The grave-robbers
peel back the sod on the old dune
& take everything but
the bronze hammer of Thor,
an odd coin or two
& several crosses — hammers
on their way to being men.
They re-bury the skeletons
from seven graves in
this one small craft:
three males & four females,
all dead before the age of 30
from disease or famine
& now jumbled together
like beads from a broken cord.
doors confess all
to my hand
one of the many
temptations of faith
to and fro I lumber
and never go to sleep
all the music of a tree
is to make it go
more than art or play
a festival of use
a faith that we hear
as singing
being
beyond
Eohippus of the truck family,
divergent offspring
of wheelbarrows,
what led the hand truck
to stand on its head
& press its nose to the ground?
What could it possibly
have learned from the worm
& the tons of dirt
that pass through
a worm’s stomach?
How to let fall, perhaps,
boneless as hope.
How to take its time.
Stack truck,
sack truck,
were there no such thing as hell here
no faith no truth no love
would it matter
would I have taken it to heart
how much of this is true
the marginal swan
the dancing girls
this open road of a body
is it enough to give us
the name of conquerors
water of many places
these words come with arms
and damn us to remember
but not to be faithful
where sin and creed play
O Lord must I
be ordinary too
on Mars
lips after a sandwich beyond all shame
stop for a stew
some of the best parts of joy
are contrary to faith
O that infinite mouth
what will be the end of it
I wish for a change
there were no last supper
in the heart of noon
making up my accounts
God may be
little better than bread
I think that I should believe so I believe
every other day
in death
I admire that nothing
a plain picture hung on the wall
but I believe too in kindness
and a little talk
and a great deal of supper
having been the barking dog
that could not sleep
I believe as well as a bell
in the discourse of snow
My ready rage, a creed
I put on to see
how it is: thin whip, rock
and candle on the ground.
Denied wonder, I suffer
to maintain a lie.