Monday Poem

Years

First it was all just
Is
    —a indiscrete jumble of
titillation

Is was
then came

I can
followed soon by
I am

I am
is a most persistent condition
—an arbitrary concoction of boundaries
as if a single point of view was all

I am
should be a passing through
—just a glimpse upon a river
between Is and the wine-dark sea

To be caught here
alone and starkly immobile
like a dead log snagged on stone
while the river goes on to
we are

and eventually vanishes into
we are not

is to miss the possibility of

then
maybe

light

by Jim Culleny
Feb 2010

"What is wrong with our culture is that it offers us an inaccurate conception of self.  It depicts the personal self as existing in competition with and in opposition to nature. (We fail to realize that) if we destroy our environment, we are destroying what is in fact our larger self."--Freya Matthew

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