“Book of folly, the reverent rowing towards God” (1972)
earth
God shuffles around in heaven,
completely kinked,
he just wants to smoke his cigar
or chew your fingernails and
like that.
God has heaven,
but longs for the earth,
the earth with the small secluded caves,
the bird, that snaps at the kitchen window,
even after the murders, Lined up like broken chairs,
according to the poets, the ones with sledgehammers
penetrate their souls,
the hawker, their animals
sell for gold,
the infants, the sniffing look for their music,
the farmhouse, bone white,
that sits on the lap of the cornfield,
widow life shown at the monument,
the ocean with its cup full of students,
but above all, He is jealous of the bodies,
Is, who is disembodied.
On the eyes, which like keyholes- and approach,
never forget, register a thousand times,
the skull with the smooth mind –
the presentation plate in the world –
the bones and their joints,
that bend and break for every feat,
the genitals,
the ballast of eternity,
and the heart of course,
that drinks the tide
and spits them clean.
He is not so jealous of the soul.
He is only soul,
but would like to let them live in one body
and come down
and let her
bathe once in a while.