& In Weaving Light the Darkness Becomes a Net

& in weaving light the darkness becomes a net ( o hold me )


build four squares
mandala for a Buddha

is it better to be a whole
unbroken or pieced together

from a life shattered following
into the push of light & shadow

or is it a false perception
that anything is broken

a cup in shards
still perfect

being what
it is

how each thread
in a coat radiates holy

(will you see it all that way:
each dull blank each uneasy silence)

every molecule ensouled by
its absolute existence
or having lunch with a poet
eating fried fish on white Styrofoam plate

the drowning of Ophelia
the madness of a too clear imagination
the sand of the monks thru the chak-pur
grain by grain

o rivers of America o green Lakshmi dancing
a lotus in her belly: owl to a sacred crane

feet head left right
round & empty

& the least of
gestures red~

or Ophelia’s tears
or a fish taking

the hook:
o eye

& in weaving light
darkness becomes a net;

four square: fish cornbread slaw beans


Richard Lance Williams

Posted over on More Poetry