and hectic skill making their way

into his body, hungry invaders fighting

for claims in that dark homeland,

strangers touching him, calling his name,

and so he lies down at last

in a bare room far from home.

And we who know him come

from the places he knew us in, and stand

by his bed, and speak. He smiles

and greets us from another time.

We stand around him like a grove,

a moment’s shelter, old neighborhood

remade in that alien place. But the time

we stand in is not his time.

He is off in the places of his life,

now only places in his mind,

doing what he did in them when they were

the world’s places, and he the world’s man:

cutting the winter wood, piling the brush,

fixing the fences, mending the roofs,

caring for the crops under the long sun,

loading up the wagon, heading home.

The Wild Rose

Sometimes hidden from me

in daily custom and in trust,

so that I live by you unaware

as by the beating of my heart,

suddenly you flare in my sight,

a wild rose blooming at the edge

of thicket, grace and light

where yesterday was only shade

and once more I am blessed, choosing

again what I chose before.

The Blue Robe

How joyful to be together, alone

as when we first were joined

in our little house by the river

long ago, except that now we know

each other, as we did not then;

and now instead of two stories fumbling

to meet, we belong to one story

that the two, joining, made. And now

we touch each other with the tenderness

of mortals, who know themselves:

how joyful to feel the heart quake

at the sight of a grandmother,

old friend in the morning light,

beautiful in her blue robe!

Let Us Pledge

Let us pledge allegiance to the flag

and to the national sacrifice areas

for which it stands, garbage dumps

and empty holes, sold out for a higher

spire on the rich church, the safety

of voyagers in golf carts, the better mood

of the stock market. Let us feast

today, though tomorrow we starve. Let us

gorge upon the body of the Lord, consuming

the earth for our greater joy in Heaven,

that fair Vacationland. Let us wander forever

in the labyrinths of our self-esteem.

Let us evolve forever toward the higher

consciousness of the machine.

The spool of our engine-driven fate

unwinds, our history now outspeeding

thought, and the heart is a beatable tool.

Come Forth

I dreamed of my father when he was old.

We went to see some horses in a field;

they were sorrels, as red almost as blood

the light gold on their shoulders and haunches.

Though they came to us, all a-tremble

with curiosity and snorty with caution,

they had never known bridle or harness.

My father walked among them, admiring,