Mixed Blessings (1994)

Sunlight washes
this room, hides,
then returns,
revealing in one day
two shores,
two dolphins
chasing each other
over and through
the waves.

Simple to say
these antiphons
of light and shadow
teach the heart
to love its life
and fret love's end,
but these are not
simply alternation,
but doubly a reverse:
an unrivaled revel
pulsing over the grave.

All of this favors
the poem, I think,
and guides my words
with a thirst all waters
yet none may quell.

A poem dowses its
way to love on a path
of frangipani and yew,
with only their counter rages
to scent a middle way.

Thus I write
in praise of all
mixed blessings:
and pray for the wisdom
the half-scythed,
half-sighted.

Knowing my certainties
are no compass.
Coming to believe in shreds,
vagabond indices
of a truth
weaving
and leaping
about a room.