Sometimes we Dream ...to Live in a Space Which, Though Committed to Truth, Accepts all Variations in the Attempts to Understand it

Sometimes we Dream
…to Live in a Space Which, Though Committed to Truth, Accepts all Variations in the Attempts to Understand it

(“O Lord, you are my God; I will exalt you and praise your name, for in perfect faithfulness you have done marvelous things, things planned long ago.” Isaiah 25:1)

Without hiding a single intention, I would like to share
indented inventions and the hopes I wrote down on the back page
of a red covered Bible so many years ago.

So far behind me now, I live in my future, I sit outside the circle I envisioned;
Adobes and an artistic community, Georgia O’ Keeffe and New Mexico,
Toas and Santa Fe and Albuquerque snow.

Or somewhere like it all; Santa Cruz or Sausalito would do,
to spin my gadgets like unwinding yoyos flying in the sky,
dancing over the bay, and, for every observation, there would be
twice as many weblog reports of unusual phenomena sighted
and dated
and photographed

While I shared pie at the coffee shop on the way
to Santa Fe
or up the bay
to Strawberry.

If I had the time I would write my rhymes like
Ansel Adams loved his wilderness; mimes
silently speaking the red filtered shutter God
had prepared for just that day.

I hate museums, unless I live near one,
and rarely visit zoos (there is no on there
to talk to).

I am charmed by beauty, the green and the grandeur,
I am grateful for vision, the shadows and the yellow.

My dream, my scheme for my pinnacle pronouncement,
was a local consort where minds were applauded and
thinking was as welcome as the next cup of coffee poured
by a waitress with a wink who knew we did not, did never,
know it all.

When will we (You know who) ever learn, faithful as You are,
You leave us freer than liberals to examine the facets of diamonds
just discovered,
to bounce the ball of interpretation higher than the boys in grade school.

It is not heresy to say
“I do not yet know it all; symbols or prosaic arcanity.”