Astrologia

Earth jerks around the sun, blue Ford Galaxies
packing jet sky hydraulics, cricket pulse in the bones
making blood. Gray tenements withhold great blue gravity
for the living who prosper by who knows how it was going to be.

Never have we had another time more than this time now,
people climb onto the packed bus, manifest car lights troweling
for redemption, engines submerged in moving, the mufflings,
the fallings into open, particular expoundings, delicate exhales.

The heart-beating unknown evening might as well grant plenty of time,
here where we're everything the moon lights up, the reverend cooing
into an ear of the baby of self-imposed sanctions, a woman sweeping
atoms into a corner of her spectroscopic addition until she finds a break

in the heard pitches. Cities are seen from the shuttle, the Hubble
receivers in resilient amber waves heightening bodies of trees
the body knows pretty clearly. All the world is how you give it
a place around you. All you can do is how the world opens

and closes as you work, scent of long hair, of dusty blackberries,
bitten cigar, the violet scarf, the steel frame shuddering as we slow,
phantom old-world willows rustling, the heavy shepherding coats
of a slowest particle, rainwater outside and in, wild passing light

— continually the human face being born. Cleverness wraps us
with outer ancestor space. And still the plants grow, spinning
as cross-modified sky galaxy groundingly spins, all matter
drinking root light. Nothing can be done that isn't both trying

and letting go, the whole-housed nuclear flashes emulsified
in waves arriving and leaving. The coast of the ocean talks
about it louder than language, depending on your sun.

Copyright © 2009 James Grabill All rights reserved
from Redactions
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission