A visiting poet

Jeff Gundy will be conducting a workshop tomorrow, to which I was invited--hooray!--and will be giving two lectures, one a reading of his poetry, the other entitled "Songs from an Empty Cage: Some Notes on Theopoetics." I am excited to learn from him. Check out one of his poems:


Second Morning Song from Oneonta

So early the black flies are still asleep.
A high scruff of rock where lovers

carved their names and then slipped back
into the soft needles under the trees.

Already the valley hums and crackles
and the last rolls of mist hang over

the smokestacks like those fine scratches
that pile up on your glasses. God said,

the places you love will often
be difficult to find. God said, sweat

is a good sign but not reliable.
God said, hold this day like an egg,

hold and cherish it as you dream
of being touched yourself. Break the day

but gently as the great chef breaks eggs
for the dishes you cannot name or afford.

God says all this has been given you,
the whine of the crane and whirr of engines

pulling tired women to their bad jobs
and the drumlin where the last glacier

gave up its journey and grumbled away.
God says remember, God says
don't give up. God says give up.