Sunday, March 31, 2013

The Night Music of San Rafael de Guatuso

San Rafael de Guatuso, Costa Rica
A living fence in Costa Rica, from
April 2, 2013

I wander dreams of dinosaurs
while dozing in a concrete cave
as freight trucks rumble
baritone scales
north into night.

Somewhere in darkness
drunks howl feigned joy
and small dogs strut
soprano outrage
from the safety of sofas.

stalk the hearts and haunt
Field in Guatuso,
courtesy of Mary Woods,
Methodist Rural Center, Costa Rica
the souls of those who walk
the night alone
in far lands.

But far is not a place you go to, 
far is something dark inside, 
a cave you wall against the terror 
faced alone but not beyond 
the love disguised as humble chance.

So who’s to say the whippoorwill
who camps aside my weathered door
to chant his sad, hypnotic score
is not an angel sent by God
to guard the gap from black to gray.

When somehow, dawn
birds sing back sleep
as light rains
play, pianissimo,
the green plains of Guatuso.

Where fence posts sprout
leaves and roots, and dark nights
yield to sun-baked days
with black beans, bitter coffee

Friday, March 1, 2013

Vacuum Collapse

Athens, Georgia
March 4, 2013

It could be out there even now
slouching from Saggitarius
at the speed of light

Or born a billion years beyond
the final gasp
of unbelief

On chars and embers once called
earth, third cinder
from a burned out sun.

But comes the cosmic tidal wave
collapsing vacuum
into void

And on that day
the dreams of Daniel fade
and the ghost of Koheleth cries again

Vanity, vanity, all was for naught
for the Apocalypse of John
is just poetry

And the number of the beast
was hidden in the Higgs,
the boson bestowing mass.

Hear this

And weep, you prophets who crunch
the bitter equations
through end-of-world apps:

The pseudo-emptiness teems
with too much
and one day must slump

To the lesser nothing.
To the bunker below the foundation.
To an emptiness more true.

Or this could be but chimera –
some say we’re saved
by supersymmetry

That vacuum shall hold as space expands forever
and ever
to emptiness again.

Just so, my friend
the monster
under our beds

Is nothing, really
somehow or other
it’s Nothing at all.

And I can sense the cold shadow
but feel the final calm
of cosmic indifference

For in a field somewhere
the lily
blooms pure

And the sparrow sings more sweetly
than I have ever
heard before.
"Grace" by David Noah, Winterville, Georgia