The Golden Dome of the Sacred Tomb


Lights in the distant tavern flicker invitingly
over a roaring gorge and an avalanche cataract
where many folk drown

I’ve seen splendor in floors of polished marble and in your eyes
O human beings almost entirely unaware of your own beauty

Seven mushrooms under a shady tree count if there are
any more mushrooms to come or if they should stop counting in their dark
mushroomy meditations

Some sea-waves arch their backs as if in various stages of outrage
others take the more peaceful route softly rolling white billows

Magdalena Ostenporra the Italian opera star gazes into her
dressing room mirror
in silence she’s the same as the doorknob behind her or the
congratulatory roses at her elbow

Set out at once on the Impossible Quest
and though you may not arrive you shall be wise

A grasshopper said that first to a pebble then to a fern
then to a sparrow
the stone moved a micro-millimeter the fern wiggled its fronds in the air
the sparrow flew away

Serious discussions take place before anyone even opens their mouths

We always come back to the eyes again even in silence

The golden dome of the sacred tomb on the hill
catches every light cast by the world but itself stays golden
as each color other than its golden self
slides off into darkness

                        7/13/2004 (from Underwater Galaxies)

Categories: Poems