The Paradox of Equilibrium

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Oxen of the Sun 378

Welcome you sick gravity,
welcome to this happy vehicle of distraction
while the surgical citizen attends to this required hour
with wise enquirers and certain women he
takes his beholding seriously
and practices his public work, we scarcely care.
But we are a nation of history
a nation of discrepancies
certainly this experience of sickness
cannot be mistaken for bliss.
When we are done with our prudent terrestrial lie
when we are done with this wayfaring trembling
When we are done with this mother night
will we find possibility?
Will we find our way back to the opulent womb?


Oxen of the Sun 379

The seafloor now keeps
Our sad oil
Forgive us our answers
stolen from the lips of those good angels
Unwilling as we are
to crave the ruined question
we sigh and shrivel
glad to be done
Held in sorrow
the weary word serves
to forgive the moon
for it’s ignorance of heaven.


Oxen of the Sun 380

These travelers come
to the castle of salt
to the house of sleep
to the land of the backward word
to find the breast
they left uncertain
to find the sword of marvel
and work the strings of useless noise.
The harkened voice
the bloodless birth
the home you left
the never merry land
the hand that beats
the hand that feeds
the one false thing
the smitten space
Come, you mother-night!