Sunday, August 5, 2012

Home Alone

I wake up 
to a quiet, 
unpeopled house

float down our long hall
toward the kitchen

my pajamas flutter
like an angel’s robe.

I reach out into the emptiness
sense something there
as if walking in the isle 
of a cathedral dense
with apparitions.
The boys went camping.
I don't miss them.
Instead I long for coffee.

I pour the dark powder
into the white filter 
as reverantly as
a priest preparing
Then I lean against 
my white tile altar,
sipping, beholding,
following my bare feet 
into the garden. 

I hear myself humming. 
I hear myself praising the Lord.

I hear myself praying
there is a Lord 
to receive my praise, 
with so much yearning.

After This

Mount Tam
I want to live again--but not forever!
Time without end would be a bore.

Just give me ten millennia--
that will suffice I think--
to sate my curiosity,
to grow more restless,
to ready me for whatever
happens in that tick
of time before
the next conception.

Or if the worst be true,
to pare my fear
that after all this
there's only an abyss.

My Soul

Lake Chabot
beside the lake
I sense
something near
fusing me
with not me,
listening kindly,
my empty self
with what is
In silent--
I am at last