The wood panel walls and the rusted stove
in an old mobile home. I look at the pictures
on the brown walls, the yellowed ears of paper
on the coffee table. Two cans of green beans
and a cup of corn, the golden planets moved
in circles up above. It's like there's a ballet
of luminaries, the gods perform a dance
that discloses a mystery. O the furious air
and curious earth! The water that destroys
the past and fills the ponds. I think of spirit
as something that is flowing, of the flux
of ideas and authorities. The small house
is overtook by wildlife, the tall bushes
grow through the windows into the living room.
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