when the last days come
we shall see visions
more vivid than sunsets
brighter than stars
we will recognize each other
and see ourselves for the first time
the way we really are
It bodies forth burdock, nettle,
dandelion loose leaf.
Sneaks, just below the navel
and calls from blackness beneath
the oceans; scattered echoes resurface,
fine pollen of blue corn.
In wavy shadows of my eye,
each name and place that struggles
to survive memory.
Out in the desert, you know,
every moment the sun trembles
across the sky is the smallest death,
that you could call the smallest truth.
my left shoulder this life
reels—the only full realization
is death, say the Germans.
Here is another: juniper trees
who reach into the bare red rocks
and have done for centuries—not long
after rocks learned to speak—
who will never say water
cannot be found and is not life.
© Michael Mahoney, 2011
[Opening lyrics from “Against Pollution”
by The Mountain Goats]
|Dandelion; photo by Tony Russell|