The sound of the creek made me sad, I thought,
“I’m not getting the creek.” It made me see something That I saw I didn’t see. Still, The creek was leading somewhere, turning.
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The Judean date palm lives in Ketura.
After 2,000 years, that’s pretty good. In fact, it’s become a father. It really Helps the entire neighborhood. He has some flowers, and his pollen is good, And his cousins live in the Jordan Valley, Each date has its own wrinkles, its own Sugar, the tree in its own alley, The alley in its own orchard, the fruit In England and in Saxony. Sweetness rises from the earth, It drifts across to Ptolemy, Greek islands, the Aegean Sea, Across Crusader battlements, Where the foul air snuffs out flame. The spiders flutter filaments And float into the sky, and beetles Steer by the Milky Way, And find the strung-out traveler In a shanty in Bombay. A field of gravity soaked
The field of wheat. And gravity Soaked the space the earth was turning In. The brave sequoia tree Grips the ground, the ground bears every- Thing, till everything is sane. And all the open sesame seeds Are empty. And what our busy brain Cannot see we call it empty. That is really ultra-being. So when we see the solid hills, What exactly are we seeing? The branches got tangled in the wind.
Someone tried to fill a bottle With red light and with green light. Each truck opened its throttle And pressed against the other. Some People shine everywhere, Except the abdomen or foot, Which is dull black, you stare Into nothingness there. And if You never lit one fire that lit A young face, your city will Fall, with those who sought its respite. But if you lit one country road, Maybe that became your only Road, it became your home, The man across the field was lonely, The scent of your apple orchard Will reach the neighboring town, the news Will reach Ushuaia, even if You closed your eyes to Betelgeuse. |
Yaacov David Shulman
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