A Bit of Thanksgiving
I thank you, Lord, for fruitful fields,
for wide and healthful skies,
and for the fact that not everyone
who goes off to war will die;
and for the limits you have wisely placed
on corruption and despite,
that we need only deal with them
once or twice each night.
I thank you, Lord, for cheerful suns
that rise at every dawn,
and that my students learn to hide
the sound and sight of yawn.
I thank you that we live here free
in houses without bars,
that we have kept the things we own,
that no one owns the stars.
I thank you, Lord, for politics,
for presidents, senates and such,
which keep us from thinking that progess is easy
or that we have it much.
Thank you, Lord, for infant smiles
and children bright at play,
and for all the crabbed and silly souls
who annoy us every day.
(We appreciate those most, O Lord,
those crosses that we bear,
and we thank you that we have not gone bald
from pulling out our hair.)
Thank you, Lord, for mirrors,
for when I most despise
the follies of my fellow man,
I look, and they show pride's lies.
Thank you, God, for mysteries
that you leave for us to solve,
and for putting us on this floating ball
that rotates and revolves.
Thank you for your mercy,
which saves us from the brink;
and thank you, Lord, for righteous wrath,
but we need it more, I think.
Thank you for all gentle souls
who can their tempers keep;
protect them, Lord, from the rest of us,
lest we murder them in their sleep.
And for all the blissful marriages!
There are three of them, at least,
and given how hard the whole thing is,
that's quite an abundant feast.
And for all the others as well, my Lord,
that stall and sputter and spin
like well-loved cars that barely move,
they are so nicely broken-in.
And also for the ones that fail,
that they might have been worth the try
if they had begun to talk, to tell it straight,
to laugh and sweetly cry,
and that they in their saddest loss
yet stand as vivid sign
that it's commitment to the crazy person there,
not to the signature on that line.
Thank you, Lord, for critics,
the ones who attack with whip and flail,
and for reviewers and polemicists,
and, because of them, for hell.
And thank you, Lord, for stupid folk,
so that we can clearly see
all the things that shock the mind,
from which none of us are free;
and thank you for those shocking times
when the pedants who lecture all
on all their silly, foolish folly
into those follies fall,
for it teaches us the wisdom
of gentleness and restraint,
lest we in turn be painted
with the brush by which we paint.
Thank you for absurdities;
they overflow the bank,
so if I thank you for each one,
I'll never cease to thank.
And thank you for gifts of irony,
which give us the wit to see
that all the things we complain about
may be thanksgiving's seed.
But most of all, I thank you, Lord,
that in this life before we die,
we can see ourselves with wry regard,
and shake our heads, and sigh.
Lilith
The room was dark, for it was night,
but through the shade a glint of light
poured softly down from moon to floor;
thus I could see her at the door.
She drew near, then with her palm
pushed hair from my eyes; in voice like balm
said, "Dearest boy"; and, before I could flee,
she seized the pillow and murdered me.
Absinthine
Rich with wild wormwood
lightly bitter in my taste
the triune in my body
is deeply interlaced
and I am green as glory
with bewitchment in my soul
waiting in the glass
for the God to make me whole
Wild and unruly
a danger to the sane
I stand upon the wasteland
waiting for the rain
rain drops down now slowly
sweet and cold as ice
heaven interfuses
and I louche to paradise
