for nothing

poem 006

today the sun 
is nothing 
except the brightest eye 

of divinity 
exploring
themself

& i find myself
gathering scrap boards 
& stacking them

yes, today the wind 
has blown me
into the shuffling 
of estranged materials
that have the power 
to collapse emptiness

but i will not behold my stirrings
in this land
as anything 
other than 
a whirling cloud 
of starlings: 
     yes, i welcome
     an elder weather 
     to grant me 
     the glorious loss
     of distinction here
     where accord 
     gently confuses
     the mundane 
     & the sacred

it will not be done 
with precision 
but with integrity
& burrowed inside
of that difference 
is a wound 
weathered into grace

it will not be done
so securely 
& civilized
that spaces
where shadows dwell
are evicted from this place

there will be defined
a void
between each edge
& into this i will speak 
a blessing
woven from branches 
of my breath

there will be crafted
a space exactly 
for nothing
& into this i will blow 
delicately the pieces 
of my soul
in need of memory

     i am only stacking scrap boards

& from the silence
between each one
will be molded
empty mouths
to carry
the tiny creatures
of this land
into their dreaming