He Considers the Solitude of His Intelligence

They come to it for proof of God
When old dark weather strikes
And all the power lines are down
And black floods leak the dikes.

But loneliest of thing’s the hearth:
The folk get just so close,
Then to this distance add a screen,
And so the thing’s recluse.

Kept back from all the furniture,
It’s like the family dog,
Snapping at a passing chill
Or lapping up a log,

Or some bright mind like Galileo
Under house arrest
Trying to explain his view
To some low-ceilinged guest:

Its fingers point excitedly
To where, deep up the flue,
God hides behind a square of night
But shows a star or two.

–June 26, 1993

(“He Considers the Solitude of His Intelligence” appeared in the Fall 2004 issue of The Penwood Review, Los Alamitos CA.)

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Published on November 9, 2006 at 4:15 pm  Leave a Comment  

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