i went to a funeral for Mardi Gras
this year
i'm giving them up for Lent
Now every time i take communion
i remember
This Man is alive
that's the difference between
christians and cannibals
the meal they eat is dead
their fellowship is twisted
half complete
their man won't come back to life
Friday isn't Good
funerals in lent are unavoidable
and Easter's dawn is dark

I thought too much
about everything.
I considered everything...

I asked all the questions
man ever asked
I ignored the answers 
that ever gave hope.

I burned with desire.
I baked stone bread.
I fumbled the keys by day.
I returned to my filth.

Then you caught me.
Then you came.
I write it down.
I hope now.

          sit silent in the trees
          at the edge of the cliff
          above
the river flowing through the
                              valley

          you could almost put your finger on it
except it seems so timeless, and the technician with the lab coat and
bottles says rocks are made of windshield wipers and copper pots
and the guy in dungarees with the camel brush says that the foot- 
prints uncovered on the river's edge were actually made by a lizard 
who lives off Central Park and everyone knows that trees are made 
of used office furniture.

          sit silent now and you'll
          hear dryads tell jokes
          to the water nymphs -- old jokes
the same jokes told on the first day of 
                                                creation

          you could almost put your finger on it
but you don't know how.  you don't know how the rocks each mo- 
ment choose silence when they are busting to shout for joy
or how the tree rejoices in his station each moment choosing his 
special posture and you don't know how the water flows down to
the sea:  choosing action over inaction.

          sit silent in your chair
          and don't move because
          something that shouldn't will
if the will behind the world
                                     flinches