My dog the bounding surf, Luna lovely tail in tow, she died you know. Now I crave God, who’s invisible to all get out, who’s behind everything but not here, who I can sense, smell and touch but not put my finger on.
Let me explain this rhapsody. The mountains bear Earth you see. From a long ways off wonder at their tops sublime, wonder at their feet. Now that’s God standing there the everything you see, touchable, feelable, palatable, real, but you can’t get to ‘im, can yah?
He’s a mystery to you. He can’t climb your dog and fill the presence in the room, be her bounding joy your heart eats and eats because she’s there the love of her master.
It’s just a little spot on the world that gives the world pedestals. It’s so far from God, so impossibly short. What do I cave-in to? What do I find, the presence of God in love when he is all around me that bounding joy, the leaves in the grass, the wind in the trees, the current in the river and the river walk in me?
Oh God you are not jealous or lone. You do not want to eat me a pumpkin pie. You are not selfish and mean. You are the earth and sky, a mountain spirituality I can live in the switch from spot to all.
The absence of my dog assails me now and all the spots I’ve lost, Lisa bless her heart. Come God come, step into my reality only you. God I await your commend, your behest, and let’s rumble the earth and sky without you until resistance is gone, until no longer I remains but you. That’s all I ask of thee.
video by Douglas, made a month ago. I have not watched it and cannot
Oh Delaware, I am bandaged with poetry. I do not set sail. I cross this with my feet, crouch and look for the corpse of my dog, hallowed in heaven without me.
Whose banner do I raise? Terrible without her, but that is not all I’ve lost. I’ve lost the hope of man. Oh outcast come find me.
No amount of woods will separate me from you seeking law. I have written poetry in troubled times, and the oppressor is on the snake,
but that’s not all I’m worth. My social stigma rides me now, bigger than all humanity. The pathology of man when he is healed is not a glorious sacrament. It blithes.
What is heaven’s hope? I make it to the other side. I cross this bridge in time. Do you hear the doubt in my voice? Doubt rides the keel, and I’ve drawn a ship for my feet made of pebbles.
Sinking sands my rivers lie. I cry in my bedclothes. Dreams fling me to challenge and test, and I see my loved ones pass before my eyes. So where do I take my day?
I stand up goddammit and make this crossing, failure ever looking at me. Etched deep in the lines of reality I have lifted up my voice. It’s not my name I want you to know. I want you to grab reality by the balls and love man, every last one of us,
and for this I cross your heart in the inner spaces of our kind. Bury me please the fountain of your love.
