BitterSweetLife

So I've been working on this poem, which Lindsay is not sure she understands. In fact, after casting a discerning eye over the thing, she concluded that she likes my rag poetry better. Since Lindsay seems to be a fairly consistent judge of poetic clarity, I was shaken. Maybe this won't be the poem that sends my name into orbit alongside T.S. Eliot.

But here it is. Not merely because I want a second opinion! Of course not. Such a motive would hardly justify an entire post. It was high time to post a poem anyway. Long overdue, in fact. So uh, let me know if it's entirely baffling. Attempting to experientially describe an encounter with deity is always risky.

Breakthrough

The world lurches invisibly!
A sudden clearing of the modish frequencies,
a blackout of the buzzing static channel,
so the oldest channel beams in all the stronger.

Stars swing
and from the bottom of an unseen funnel
I sit small and dumb,
a silent speck beneath swinging stars—
as planets shiver
(stellar leaves),
trembling in the predator’s wake.

Something gigantic circles,
framed by distant lights
then framing them,
immense, invisible,
behemoth surfacing
behind my back;
a ripple of moon water widens,
and shaken stars orbit mutely
in unabated horror.

I still remember the interval,
the darkly gleaming moment,
when life lulled in starlight.
An Arnoldian redux:
I, the “ignorant army”
clashed with night
but was redeemed;
given assurance.
(Beware raw experience!)
Yet there was a dizzying
swirl of Godhood:
stars churning,
my heart dropping,
the world infinitely simple,
awfully complex.

God in all,
above all;
a non-negotiable humility
engulfed me.
All questions stoppered,
misting myrrh uncorked.
And was this not God?