Poem 158: Gethsemane

The mirror of the day falling into the night,
the warm rock of ages now cooling
rapidly into a pocket of soft air above
a pool of water, sheltered in a cleft, for me
there has always been a snake in Eden
forked lightning, cleft tongue ,and rapt
in swaddling clues to become the visions
of prayers closeted in the ringing of bells and hands,
saying take this from me.

And given back are the images that say
we are cherished where we are.
At the foot of a hard red varnished empty cross
the bloated carcass of a dead dog floating
past in a polluted river, singing, merrily ,merrily
life is but a stream.

A dead-eyed virgin cock-robined in the rosy apple
orchard, with steel wheels at her head and feet.
A cockroach on a golden ear of corn, sun ripened,
wipes his feet and waits to become the holy scarab
Submerged under the Holy Sea.
a naked woman with a dead child in her arms
kisses the statue of Christ on the mouth.
The diamond sutra dreams in the silent jungle
of alighting on the brow of the Lord Buddha
and bursting into everlasting flame.
Codex soul- furious the Minotaur his blood on fire
dreams of green fields and dances amazed.
A flock of sea gulls, taking off from the lake
scarlet riven in their wings, behold the lady.
Wooden cups in a sheltered doorway reflect
singing in the shallows of a forgotten keep.
Being barefoot in the dark, kicks over a bucket
and onto the beamed floor spills the blood of Descartes.

Straw in the road, slows the donkey with its terrifying
weight, as red cardinals on the wire sway and pitch
under the blue dome of sky, wish for the flow of tides
the celebration of salt water and the advent of tears.