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November 2006

Agnostic that I am, I find religious references fascinating. One of a few poems I wrote for my poetry workshop that I didn’t end up using.

Return once to the gypsy highway,
The purple moor, return again

To the blue horizon, the faceless moon
Again, again to the blazing sword

Which turns every way, Jerusalem
In rags, Jerusalem, the house of God

A house of swords, a frame of glass
A gas, expansive, a taut string

God’s own relentless sky embraces
The earth indeterminate erupts

The sun, a rose in mourning
The stars, a house of glass

Return again to the darkly glittering
Morning, electric, rebuilding

The cavern sky, the gypsy moonlight
The faceless moon, the crashing dove

That holds a house of sand upon
Its wings of gypsum rose and gypsy

Moth that floats upon the careless wind
God’s own relentless sky embraces

The house of swords, the frame of glass
Immaculate in waiting fragments, chance

Return, shattering, to the faceless sky,
The gypsy moon, the purple moor
The empty room, the open door