Monday, April 27, 2009

On softer air than wind


There is a voice
That goes on softer air than wind
Into the lily's horn
Out to the tip of arm-crossed bows

It is no fool of the tongue 
Or language and it's weepings
No, it speaks, moves, mimes and spits
All the fibers of the human clothe
That do stretch far
In brocade and gingham, silk and yarn
And to the deepest down particle - 
Shakes to make and atom breathe

Is there a place where it stops
  To listen to things that grow and tremble
And when they fall too quiet to hear
Does it stoop 

There is no taming of its song
Oh not the gentle wildness that always
Turns and twists into every placid corner
To form a flash where beauty lives
And pulls every good and perfect 
With every bad and broken
Into the everlasting melody