Ontology no. 1
At first, one might feel that faith is merely a product of love.
The night lies just like the rest of us. I hope for a day when the crops don’t fail
but we also get to rest.
You make elegant circles through the field. I’ve made
a religion out of waiting.
Letting night be night and love
be what it is. What happens between air and light, between moon
and hayfield? Not settling for a partial theory,
I devour love whole.
Ontology no. 2
The brain makes a room for music. Before there was paint,
there was bone. No one knows
what dreams demand. Last night I fastened a necklace made of stars
dripping cold milk. You moved through shifting boxes
of hay and smoke.
In the morning I open the barn doors to the smell of horse piss, lemon,
hawk and wind. To hear the daily soft sounds of love,
you have to know when to listen.