Wilderness

The light pursues the shadow, and
The mariner, the sea,
And he that shaped the heavens shapes
The nothingness in me.

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These seven starless years adrift
My mediocrity
Vouchsafe what lighted Gospel God
Will manifest to me.

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Sand and verdant droplets mix
Upon my summer breast,
And under evening's gravity,
I rest.

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What hopes! What dreams!
What silence!

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The Spirit moves-over the wild-erness—
His hand never leaves the plow.

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Licorice spitz within the slits
Will pericure the slants,
And when potatoes flatulate,
Palebriate the plants.

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Oh, to be a somebody
Ideal, profound, and meek—
A silent mountain cataract—
A thin, prophetic creek.

Oh, to taste of glory—just
A taste! And then divest.
Perhaps not greatest wave, but great!
Perhaps a poet?
Perhaps the best?

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I contend
With the surf,
And the moss,
And the desert sky—
Where silence speaks
And the stars preach sin
And mercy.

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