Standing on the sunlit bank
Throw yourself into the stream, shadow and all
If you are in substance ready to plumb the depth.
The experience you suffer daily is enough to appall;
Immersion in that material swamp—contents not forms.
Viewing the off-season family theatre from the crack
In the stage door; star-struck neighbors hanging round,
Stiff with drink, animated bags, stalking before the flood-
Lights and backtracking into the barren set.
There’s furniture, sure, the place is packed,
Furniture and pictures just for the sake of mood.
You are seeking contact with the wild world,
Aren’t you? I mean beyond the daily tragedy,
Where unnerved Furies can be temporarily tamed
By gutbusting laughter, or where a saint, crowned
By an atom-bomb blast, stands as an icon on a knoll,
Glowing like the beaming Dalai Lama in Dharamshala.
Hey! Forget those black-light dashboard skeletons.
In this scene The Presence smiles a happy refugee.
Do you really need the wisdom of bombastic Agamemnon?
Foreverafter fearful of the backyard bathroom?
That cannot help much. Noooooooo!
For the scientist and the poet,
Creative data abounds
To study humankind in ways beyond the norm:
You know, fragrant thoughts of forests in Borneo;
An FM-band humming B. B. King, the blues bard,
Singing “Hummingbird” just on the verge of twilight
Come on then! The horned Bull has been sacrificed,
The Ram has run,
The Fish have played upon the horizon
In spring morning’s celestial stream.
If you are going to enjoy the Waters,
Fall, sun at your back,
Throw yourself in, shadow and all.