The Innisfree Poetry Journal
by James Grabill
Let’s make this as quick as it can be. I don’t believe
in the donkey of clover when everything parks a car
on the back of a molecule, if that’s what it does.
When what weighs is what might float, and the weight
of river water allows for the newly tamed next electrons.
When a person lights the room, and the walls can finally
become themselves. When what a person cares about
deposits a wreck on the beach: health care, dollars,
the Statue of Liberty, good films, etc. When in shadows
of Farm-All iron wheels, a man in Ohio sees root muskets
glowing darkly under the rapids. And I think this even
if suddenly everything breathes when anything breathes.
For I believe in the one only person, the next one only,
and a next, and a next prayer-beaded, sweat-salted
exchange when a dragonfly reaches an overgrown field.
Daylight has already known nothing and made its will out
to a body that readily shows its ancestors, not to mention
the spiral brain tower in Barcelona or elephantine gymnasium
before us. Buddha prayed as a human, because he had to eat
or die. Quickly he lived for free. I believe he saw
that when we take too much for granted, prices rise
and at once the cost of honest breath is suffering.
Copyright 2006-2012 by Cook Communication