Perhaps we could have
peace on earth
if human beings were
such creatures as these,
formed lovingly of flat
black steel, touched
only lightly with eyes
or mouth, edges clearly set
or not, figures framed by
silhouette framing
silhouette until finally,
at a distance, the uncut
form is clear,
the red heart visible
through what's cut away.
The eye stills the mind,
shuts out all but search
and find: the one heart
and rest. The trees
stir in the breeze above
us, and there is silence.
The hush of stream over rock,
of unexpected sculpture
in a bush, square flat face,
rock adorned with seashells,
or red quartz, three large
marbles dulled like
cataracts on old eyes.
In the stream a fish
rears his head on a rock,
eyes and mouth open to sky
as they never could in life.
The stream flows brownly
around him. The sun glints
at last in his gold lamé body.
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