Poem
"Grace to be born and live as
variously as possible"
--Frank O'Hara
1
The lightning arranges us
here in the tranquil reaches
where the red flowers
have history to grow from.
Around them, we become
direct & conversational,
having stood for so long
accomplishing great stumps
on the frozen lawn. But soon,
we imagine, we will collide
with furry places--the rose's
moist explosion--symmetrical,
dangling, alert.
2
One cannot close this eye.
For it is the world in the end
that moves us--its miraculous urges
waking us each morning. The sky
focuses on all the strange little plants,
and we are among them, strangely,
holding a cup of coffee,
because we can't be perfect.
And the car drives over it,
soundlessly, its volume equivalent
to the air its movement displaces.
Darrell Gray + 2011
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