Five Poems

Relics

After a time, Hoss, it makes such little difference
What anyone writes -
Relics, it seems, of the thing
                are always stronger than the thing itself.
Palimpsest and pentimento, for instance, saint's bones
Or saint's blood,
Transcendent architecture of what was possible, say,
                                                once upon a time.

The dogwoods bloom, the pink ones and the white ones, in blots
And splotches across the dusk.
                                    Like clouds, perhaps. Mock clouds

In a mock heaven,
the faint odour of something unworldly, or otherworldly,
Lingering in the darkness, then not.
As though some saint had passed by the side yard,
                                                the odour of Paradise,
...