How quickly we get bored of flying.
What have we to show? Walking home Under the empty Orange light of sodium street lamps After even the stars have gone to bed And the sidewalk slush soaks scrub hems. Too tired to stuff speakers into our ears As to avoid being left alone With the siren-silence And our thoughts. Fresh footfalls indent the …
The Elijahs who parted the waters with the rod are gone And we remain The chariot of fire and the whirlwind The woven mantle and the staff with which to split the sea Fall to us The coal fire and the dam dynamo whirling in the spray The white coat and the uranium control rod …
The bed alarm sounded at 2 AM And there she stood upon the stool Dusting the place above Where the pillows are kept Where the motes have gathered Unremembered Except by the old woman Whose family is frightened By what she cannot remember We clamor in whispers As not to wake the others But she …
Call upon the augur to tell the man if he should stay or go Pluck the feathers and see if in the steam from strewn entrails weave roads that lead away from home If after pricking, the trickling blood wends anew in the cobblestones a thumping pulse What think we of the haruspex? The soothsayers …
These are the catechisms I have learned
