GARDEN

(For William Cole)

I love this garden I traverse,

and share, and gloss, and steward.

 

I love it even when it calls

and finds that I'm a coward.

 

I fail this garden constantly:

I am a failing fool

 

With avarice, and viciousness,

and blindness as my rules.

 

It's sham that's been my teacher here,

and shame that's been my coach.

 

I've looked and looked for other teachers;

I've found none above reproach.

 

I'd love to pledge allegiance

to the Things that Can't be Tamed

 

Magic Things and Flying Things and Things

that Have No Name.

 

But I've forsaken wonder here

and taken doubt instead,

 

Or wonder has forsaken me

and left me doubting,

wrecked by doubting,

lost inside my

doubter's head.

 

 

 

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