A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
I am lying on my back inventing my pantheon,
not the major Gods and Godesses,
but the minor ones that do all the work,
while the greater ones sit around
with a smug gravitas listening
to all their worshipers. I want the ones
who get their hands dirty and are exhausted
at the end of the day like,
Our Lady of the Compassionate Fuck
or, The God of Dumb Luck.
I want to know them by dim lantern light,
see the whole of them darkly as they hold me
to them with their legs, and see their faces
so when I pass them on the street next day
I only sense them as when in a sacred grove
one knows their presence
by the atrial fibrillation they cause.
And the God of Being Happy as I Am,
without striving, without the will to perfection.
As for the God of Dumb Luck let him
be one that says to me,
You need nothing, you have everything,
look around you, your luck has arrived.
And while I’m at it let me add
the God of Acceptance, the one who’ll take
me into a Heaven unedited, just as I am.
Copyright 2015 Doug Anderson