Wildlife

The soft-eyed doe

ate the rose before

the sun rose.

The driveway lizard

disappeared.

I suspect the cats.

Although there are

mornings -where

the stench of skunk

knocks out the scent

of jasmine. and the

turkeys strut and shit.

Things that float

Champagne corks,

three-day old corpses,

soap bubbles,

inflatable plastic ducks.

assassination theories,

toy boats.

Midnight dreams

on a good mattress.

Lenticular clouds.

Icebergs, promises,

maple leaves,

pond scum.

Grace notes,

dandelions, vultures

gossip, laughter.

Rolling the die

For some of us,

there is only God

or opioids.

.

Boxcars or snake eyes.

A thousand shares

of Microsoft.  Edsels.

This place:

how many eons

of volcanos everywhere

and one vast ocean

before the first mud

in the miasma

gave rise to the first

slime?

another couple billion

until the first cells

collided and divided, Sex!

What was God dreaming

all that time?

About Bach and Moses,

the Buddha, Whitney Houston,

and the rest of the divine?

French fries

and Seinfeld?

Krishna, Stalin, Cher?

I heard a poet once,

talk about a peach;

how much he enjoyed it.

How sorry he was that

he ate it because

it was something

that was meant

to be shared.

I think he was

one of those scorpions

trying to hitch

a ride across the river

on the back

of the frog.

However:

I tell myself,

not to forget

the canyon or the stars.

the warm afternoon 

sheets, the tongues.

the pages, one by one.

I went down

to the driveway

to collect mornings’

apocalypse

and ginger salmon recipes

and a robin sang:

Here I am,

love me, make babies,

kill me if you can.

You

I faced the wall

in the darkness,

beseeching, show me.

But you didn’t.

and I wept.

I looked for you

on the roads

that led to desert

wilderness.

all I found was

wind and dust.

I sought to be

the one

who wielded death,

the atom splitting

furnace dropping

from the sky.

And then I felt

your presence?

I think it was you, wasn’t it?

Did I pass the test? 

So I needn’t pay

attention any more

as the years rolled on.

and on. and on.

Until I needed you

again.

Two words were

sufficient: Dear one,

And there you were.

As you had always been

in all the things

I’d seen or places

I had been. 

The birds, the rivers

the deathbeds, the songs,

the silences, the kisses.