The Made Thing Considers Itself

The Made Thing Considers Itself


Made the night, made the day, made deep
the waters, made the waters go away,
made the crow and the threshing sound,
made the earth and the shovel, made the dove
and the olive sprig, made holes in the ground
fill up with time, made peace a spring of trouble.
Made the rock, the bone, the mud, the cloud,
the bee-loud glade, made the prayer sound
of water wearing rock away, made the spark,
made the flint, made the dry grass brittle,
made the crystal, made the plug, made memory
on the touch screen glow, made aleph silent,
made fear live at home, made the cross winds
carry smoke from open window out open door,
made the circuit, made the fire a button turns on,
made the flood, made the drawer, made the deer
on plastic legs in the overgrown lawn,
made paradise, made tears, made the child yawn,

o you, o none, o no one, o you,
o fault, o vault, o stars,
o zero, o rift, o bright sea, o cliff

there is a height, there is a depth, there is
the level ground, there is silence there
where some hear only sound, there is ash
and hair and ashen hair, there is an alphabet
whose last letter wanders in the dust
seeking some thing that can’t be found,
there is wisdom and hunger and days,
blank pages in books, music, and strange
animals asleep in beds of their own making—
all night these animals dream of themselves
in this world of no proof only evidence.

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