In Praise of the Lord

you'll never know if it's dark outside or light.
close your eyes and plunge deep,
deep into a primeval depth,
and come out and write all about
it to your mother.


you've sat with Voltaire,
had tea, and talked
of Satan.
and you've come home and
thought of nothing at all.

you've seen Vienna,
watched college kids
parading by with
Che t-shirts.
and lied awake at night
and stared at
ceiling cracks.

you've known the
Broadway god,
seen him pirouette
and fly.
and walked city streets,
alight with sound.
rainy and unfounded.

you've smiled your
Mona Lisa smile for
more than one.
gave an eden's kiss
to several.
and you tend to your
garden with
thorns and brambles.

O, Father, Father- it comes and goes.