THE
DIVER IN SERVICE OF SCULPTURE
            as the deepest experiences
            evade me 
 spread through and over me
            like light
            I absorb 
she nourishes while 
while offering nothing
            to bring me back to reality
            hips tilted forward
all I could recapture
everything remembered badly
words clumsy and inadequate at best
as I put the pen down
and arrive at a different place
            by imagining 
            strolling at their side 
   
           
        beyond the power of the precise
briny shores  cattle  purple sky   
too subtle the intimacy
            to be incorporated into my language 
could not recall
dimmed most oddly 
entered into my essence 
            to cherish and to feed
laden with sensation so fine
            only a repeat dose
            invokes it
from sun-flayed meadows
to New York City
    green-tinged lights of the campus  
     misplaced in those halls of ivy  
hard grind of headlines, 
has been here set down 
            so her presence brings 
            a different tale to me
hobble toward  a taxi
pass homes with concrete driveways
   
           
        come into the terminal
            could be no other
            could not frame into words.         
            but begin to understand how much nearer 
inflamed 
sit still
impossible to convey
            can’t take the flight away
though the body absorbs earthly nourishment
            leave her shaking with the tears
leave the brass-headed bed
            most of what I had heard recycled
like my speedy heels 
   the rest    the main part,
a purer form of memory 
now as tanned as sand 
desiring mind
slightly bowed grass
   
           
           
        over me
physical touch is distant
            portion most
            remembered of the colloquy 
scratched into her coffin lid
she would run as if she were
            shiny 
shy head tilted and wrinkled,
like sun glistening off a train track 
            sleep came
so she’s gone at last
as softly as would a cat
or a song from a late night movie
patter on silver heels  
stolid little stone walls
sleight-of-hand
suddenly chubby
            with soft lips
            taking off to wander the hills
            or making coffee
tear down the clouds, 
tear evaporates
in a tangle of heather and sumac 
as it were filtered through
            the mere turning on a lamp
            fire tipping luminal 
sense of fierce reality 
wide lawn of green monotone
wind      birdsong
            thecoreofthisbeing
therapy is the words
of those who’ve been
beyond state lines
            to write down the dream 
            in transcendental order
            eschew unnecessary rescue
            wary of nightmares to come
John Grey