Friday, March 16, 2007

Another undated poem that's probably from about 1998

Some questions about prophets

Am I a fool for wanting to see
The coal that burned Isaiah’s lips?
The seraph that plucked it from the fire
As the prophet stood in the Temple?
Is it wrong to wish I could scorch
My fingertips on the ember
Or blacken a nail on it?
What was it like to see such a thing?

And where are the wheels within wheels,
With the eye-covered spokes, that Ezekiel saw?

How could ravens feed me in the desert?
What could they bring?
And what privilege is it,
What ineffable status,
That makes the difference between
Being fed by ravens
And searching for locusts and wild honey?

And if protection is being saved
By the enemy of your people,
Who have thrown you in a cistern to die,
What keeps you crying in the wastes
They call the Promised Land?

I think this one was supposed to have more images or ideas in it but I just abandoned it. I didn't feel like adding more to the poem by way of references to Ezekiel 1 or 2. A no-prise to the person who figures out who the last two prophets are.

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