Dogs Valentine

Snow melt reveals
the next big trends
in early morning raids
most in critical condition
to conduct cyber warfare
the full report could take
months to get a grisly
and tragic sight right
something like ‘the tip
of the iceberg’ with no
cause for the crash or
stun grenades assault
by the press beaten
by attackers who said
they needed more time
to count how many
the cold had killed

Devils Valentine

How to turn one devil
against another must be
our common goal right now
if we would survive the earthly
collapse that’s coming
the one who rants on hysterically
about God but knows nothing
and the calm one who interrupts
him with what sounds like
just plain common sense
based solely on the material world
where we’ve all accepted
like madmen that money rules us
with absolute savagery and sway
what by itself is of no value

Universal Valentine

The experience of the thing
and then the memory
of the experience of the thing
are essentially the same thing
different only in the form
of their appearance
like the child screaming
the universal of the thing
which remains in the soul
after contact with the object
could be some animal trapped
in the soul screaming
actually present in the object
even before the child
comes into view

The 1% Valentine

 I am only
the pomegranate tree’s
third assistant
left to pick up the leaves
and the red petals
the wind and the sun
discard having been
so devoted to them
sometimes mixed in
with the white petals
of the orange tree
she who stands above us both
the archangel of the patio
where the king holds court
our lord the mockingbird

Passiontide Valentine

Dead a few decades
I’ll bet we won’t even
remember the world
but vaguely like childhood
when one has grown older
a few memories float
to the surface mysterious
amphibians at odd times 
the way one dreams
of getting caught in a net
and pulled under almost
smothered by the covers
then suddenly awake
gasping for air but safe
in the real world again

Nocturnal Valentine

When I remember somehow
the millions of years
it took to reach
remembering and then
for it to turn and stretch
out its narrow hands
into the undivided
country of the future
so we can see ourselves
arriving past hypocrisy
and childhood past disdain
for every living thing
but then you woke me
with a dirty shove
unintentional but full of love

Daily Valentine

To separate the useless
from the useful worries
is morning’s work
so the afternoon is full
of enthusiastic wool-gathering
like a slave in cotton fields
I play the overseer too
that was our holocaust
which remains alive
and thriving in human hearts
the internal continuation
of history and fate
which takes up half
the evening and then
mumbles through the night

Buddhist Valentine

Aren’t we always paying
attention to something
often most when most
we don’t seem to be
 paying attention to something
as a way of not paying
attention to something else
attention as distraction
 like right now the authentic
present is losing its credentials
while you’ve been letting me
distract you by paying
me attention and for that
I want to thank us both
for you are my distraction

Eucharistic Valentine

Evil (corruptibility) along
with good (the imponderable)
are inherent (embodied)
in matter and in us
(i.e., the spirit of good
and the spirit of evil
have both incarnated
as matter) this is obvious
that’s what gives it its earnest
piquancy and heartfelt
urgency that good and
evil co-exist in the same
flesh and blood in which
we also eventually appear
at their leisure at their pleasure

Pagan Valentine

I found a folded leaf
completely eaten out
with only its veins left
their deft weaving intact
of spun gold threads
strung from its spine
like a filigree broach
or shred of a nylon stocking
Persephone’s underwear
they would have known
in the old days before
science invented itself
and ruined the wonder
of the world as much
as original sin did later

Windy Valentine

What if your lovely life
was just swooping all day
coasting and then banking
against abrupt headwinds
 
but even without wings
we’re caught in the arguments
cold air and warm light
are always having together
 
like a story getting stranger
with each new translation
or like the cannibals turned
Christians who don’t want
 
to talk about the old days
when every supper was the last
and every life in danger

Hell's Valentine

The smell of garbage
and orange blossoms
someone whistling
what’s for lunch
 
dry bread and pull it
my mother would say
tiny red flamenco dancers
all over the pomegranate tree
 
the garden will never look better
unless you rip out everything
and bring in just one
purple lilac tree in bloom
 
but it would never survive
here in hell
that heavenly scent

Earth's Valentine

Can a garden be moving
can nature be more
than nostalgia anymore
now that the earth is dying
 
but the garden is moving
up from seeds thought dead
green spears were waiting
now that the earth is dying
 
or is it the sun that’s moving
and us just following along
newborn into the invisible world
our hooves still gleaming
 
but our hearts not moving
then moving again
seeing the earth is dying

Heaven's Valentine

How explain it to you
when the will to grasp
the explanation
has been lost
 
no that’s not it
to grasp which
there must be already
some of the same in it
 
to recognize there are two
or three truths
for every one deception
every least reflection
 
that on earth only continues
what in heaven we imagined
and said we would do

Paranoiac's Valentine

When I hear a car
pull up sharply out front
and four men jump out
slamming the four doors
 
at first I’m sure they’ve
finally come for me
and not my neighbor’s uncle
I feel the paranoia of the people
 
and run out to try
to stop them but
the one they’ve come for
after all is me
 
and guess what
it was my neighbor
who called them

Wisdom's Valentine

A little house that floats
in the air a bronze pagoda
a library in the yard
the swarming of petals
 
in the first chrysanthemum
the slow flaying of the invisible
which appears as leaves
and the blood of flowers
 
next to human blood
but without the corruption
she drew the outlines first
filling them in with time
 
she was still a young thing then
she was all she knew
before life and knowing split

Reaching Valentine

We see it in trees
and in lightening
we see it in plants
we see it in veins
 
and in limbs we see it
in fingers and toes
in rivers and water
running away
 
we see it in grief
how it spirals
flattens into a plane
spokes from a center
 
we see how it reaches
for something invisible
no longer there

Angel's Valentine

I took it as a sign
that you woke me
every morning to my life
and called me out
 
to the yard and said
all this is yours
if you will freely love me
and here’s today to prove it
 
for you I’ve turned
bones into bread
and back again
for you the beauty
 
of the world is only
a down payment on my love
a simple pledge or token

Always There Valentine

A big momma cloud
pushing a bitty cloud
in a stroller rushing across
the blue arc of your life
 
some clouds carry the dead
some dead are friends
all friends are clouds
but these two are always there
 
hurrying above the horizon
wherever you are look up
you’ll see them like a tattoo
on a face you’re too close

to see all of
our lady of the landscape
our madonna of the hours

Charged Valentine

From the beginning
of the poem I start
to worry about how
it will end
 
how I will ever
be able to say
the last goodbye
in the world
 
I poet
charged with speech
in the middle of the poem
tearing up and laughing
 
I just wanted to distract you
a little with my love
I just wanted a song to sing

March Morning Valentine (for Mom)

Silvery trails
of the snails
having eaten
too much moonlight
 
across the patio
the old tarot
of leaves lays out
our fate
 
we will burn in hell
the one that we create
but not today
today we wait
 
all this beauty
at the door of spring
or what’s the burning for

Ukrainian Valentine

I see you are delightfully misinformed
that your confusion could reach
comedic proportions were it not
demonically intended
 
I see you are my shadow’s apprentice
the one who hands him the wrench
with which he beats the prisoner
while I am sleeping or down the street
 
I see you are the master of a school
of opposition and despair
without which resisting
we would never become human
 
beings who are only ever
as free and loved
as everyone else

Life's Valentine

To start with nothing
and to end with nothing
is life’s gesture life’s
real pleasure and goal
 
and in between the two nothings
one that would waft us away
and the other that would
hammer us into the ground
 
to build a something
on its way to becoming
a someone or even
a simple anyone

but one who has seen

the great sea of life
and knows we will never die

Email with Pix Valentine

Great to hear from you I know you're busy
or sleeping yes we had a terrific downpour
and a small tornado (what?!) not too far
from here in Mesa but we didn't even have
 
high winds and now it hails in Costa Mesa
anyway here's the first morning glory flower
the plant itself is only an inch and a half high
but it has this huge flower
 
that’s almost too heavy for it to lift
I didn't expect to see bloom
until it got further up the trellis
but maybe it was the rain
 
that seduced/induced it
reminding me of you
hugs and kisses dad

Mysterious Valentine

It’s the falsity of the world
we fall in love with first
how it’s willing to offer us
the most fantastic things
 
so that we who once believed
in Santa and the tooth fairy and God
now believe in the abstractions
of money and material science
 
with the same religious fervor
that once typified the mysteries
of the ancient worlds but
with none of the real excitement
 
none of the reverence or terror
the gratitude or joy
that shook the initiate’s core

Double's Valentine

I think I’ll give up myself
for Lent this year
but then what else do I do
with myself all day
 
and night but sleep and sing
for all that is still suffering
somewhere to be born
into this world again and again
 
like when you close your eyes
the colors inside darkness open
the double world which shows
all that refuses to be seen here
 
staring back at you as from a mirror
seeing the child’s heart
and ancient soul of you

Waiting Valentine

Waiting for the rain
we lost all track of
space and time
the world began to rhyme
 
and a mourning dove I swear
was cooing ‘Get Lucky’
as if it truly knew how
to take lessons from the zeitgeist
 
the clouds rolled up their sleeves
after so many sunny mornings
the coming darkness will have to be
particularly wretched
 
and refreshing for the fearless
like us who know
what love is for

New Valentine

Sit down old man
among your conscious ruins
old flower while the sun
opens your bones
 
so you can hear the storm
slowly assembling in the south
though it’s none
of your business anymore
 
do that trick you’ve learned
of climbing thoughts each
tendril to its end until
they disappear
 
into the world of pictures
hidden right here the luminous
world of the real

Sprouting Valentine

Imagine what it’s like
to pull yourself
right up out of the ground
as if you’d been buried alive
 
but despite your panic
you’d fallen asleep and dreamt
for a few minutes about the day
you first felt alone and
 
stranded even from yourself
and the pain of that
woke you only to find
you were under the ground
 
but could still wrest yourself free
working one hand leaf-like upward
and pushing down against all hell

Slave's Valentine

Stranded in the rainy Irish countryside
lost in a snowstorm in Wisconsin
baking on the stones of Samos
waiting for you on a bench in Paris
 
having a sandwich in Ipswich
or noticing a frotteur in Monteux
where the Ficus is a delicate princess
channeling forlornness into the world
 
but your point is not punctuation
that an asterisk be a kiss
on the lips of the reader
as it was on the writer’s before
 
whether from beauty or sorrow
wasn’t the heart always escaping
as if it had any rights of its own

Antique Valentine

A night for candles
the devils are out there
a German bisque googly doll
from her father’s side
 
watch if we open it up
it’s silver with gilt edges
probably the 1880’s
a Spanish inscription
 
it all depends on who wants them
like in the old films
of the steel mills
pumping out the golden age
 
old swords and old guns
a carved ivory brush pot
but look the rain has stopped

Beaten Valentine

They’re taking the roof off
one of the houses down the street
not with a bomb as it happens
in other cities so one pauses
 
at the door to hear the workmen
groan and beat the obdurate beams
with hammers and crowbars
to do honor to the trees
 
they’re hewn from the old towns
around here invisibly present
and unaccounted for to build
a whole new neighborhood
 
of graves and loves
just while I’ve been standing here
listening to them pound

Healing Valentine

Early mornings
I sweep up
yesterday’s leaves
and water
everything
and sit
waiting
that sparrow
the poem
to stir
the waters of
the birdbath
and heal me
which even
when he does
he just flies off
often shitting
on me as
he flees

Unnamed Valentine

In the presence of the dead
who of course live on without
bodies holding them together
in the absence of the living
 
who are still mostly asleep
in the time when the color
for safety returns to the breeze
and the formula for green goes public
 
and all at a microscopic level
all the way back to hydrogen
and the invention of prayer
but which came first
 
thirty times thirty denials
my name goes here
or acceptance of the spring

Crossing Valentine

A fountain in the shape
of a frosted glass door
to the other world
no water needed
 
a few dry pebbles
left behind to symbolize
the pure puddles
of heaven’s sky
 
it’s all a muddle
when you get there
and you barely find
your seat before it starts
 
you hum the score
the curtain rises it’s your life
in scenes you’ve never seen before

Silk Bracelet Valentine

A caravan to Konya
a cool open courtyard
every twenty miles or so
a caravanserai with a hundred camels
 
a donkey leads the way
a sensible fellow with a nose
for theological turn-offs
that only lead to bad minarets
 
and the scholar’s stalls
the glowing tiles still intact
now selling bracelets like
the one you brought me
 
my people have always
worn bracelets the old woman said
so we will know the one we love

Musicale Valentine

Usually we take this
perceived reality too
literally and forget it’s
all a Potemkin village
 
another visit by the Red Cross
to the dressed-up concentration camp
where the talented girl violinist
plays Brahms not Mahler
 
but barely a week later
they enter the gas chamber
this thorn in our side
the world is not yet a human place
 
the gods still toy with us
their beautiful invention
and will run us if we let them

Villon Cover Valentine

Now last year’s leaves
made from last year’s rains
blow over and cover
the path to the past
 
which was already muffled
and taut as a riddle
and difficult to swallow
gone but never gone
 
or let’s just say put aside
Francois not to be a freak
about it yet something’s
laid away for the future
 
a kind of spiritual retirement plan
about which Wall Street
knows nothing

Greek Valentine

How is heaven better
than this doomed earth
at evening when the sun
descending lifts us up
 
we can have heaven later
with our suppers
after a stroll along the harbor
as the moon leaps over
 
these were some of our earlier mistakes
and triumphs cemented over
as if they created themselves
as indeed they created this nothing
 
what the Greeks called beauty
by which they meant the world itself
not just everything in it

My Adolescent Valentine

If when you’re 56 in the body
you’re really only 14 in the soul
that would go a long stretch
toward explaining your grief
 
and would confirm your enduring
suspicion you are not at all
in control of your life
nor but in the loosest sense
 
free yet as a person to accomplish
most of your original potential
let alone the new obligations
accrued along the way

the heart always lags behind
or runs on far ahead
refusing to grow old or end

Evolutionary Valentine

For years I would wake up
eagerly in the morning to see
what the dreamed world had prepared
for me alone as if some wise counsel
 
had inspired its construction
which I was charged to uncover
before sleep snuck back again
but what is all the mystery about
 
if there is nothing hidden there
which comes to seem more credible
fear or love if you consider
the slow evolution of goodness itself

from its purely mineral conception

through the slavery years of its youth
and still the whole world stacked against it

Plato's Valentine

Gradually one by one
we shadows may be able
to recognize our thoughts
are not of this world
 
this physical-mineral world
a personal experience
as fearful and decisive as
any sensual experience can be
 
to know one is chained
in Plato’s cave but to be writing
about it with a storyteller’s heart
one who has risen above the story
 
to that moment of encouragement
when you perceive yourself
as part of a realer realm

 

Explanatory Valentine

Maybe the dead are the weathers
of the world the great oceans
of clouds gathering or self-effacing
that have no fixed abode
 
the warmth against the cold
the dry against the moist
clashing in monumental battles
inserting their spears of light
 
or fluttering down in ashy flakes
stirring the volcanoes into rumbling
the earthquakes to answer back
but they might as well be using

sign language to try to warn us

that what we have the power to destroy
only they have the power to bring back

Poet's Valentine

I am a poet yes but
are you really any good
that is not a question
that belongs in a poem
 
or in poetry for that matter
intellectualism has corrupted
the heart to betray
its greatest treasures
 
and violence is just down the street
the couple next door
aspire to great opera
with the right composure
 
while I tally the wings
we’ll need to rally
our ascent

Everything Ends Badly Valentine

All ends and all endings
are bad everything ends badly
but all beginnings are brilliant
and go on and on brilliantly
 
even if to bad ends
how could there not be
something good in the beginning
not to come to a bad end
 
despite the brilliance
that persists long after
the beginning is achieved
we are all prodigies in our youth
 
only a few years later ending
under the spell of an evil world
as the fairytales foretold

Newport Valentine

At the vast outwardness
of the sea you draw
inwardly more deeply
down into the inner
 
workings of the sea
of inwardness
and if it’s just at sunset
you can feel yourself a part

of all the light that’s slowly

being taken over
by the darkness it’s like
the sun is speaking to you
 
be your own illumination
I can’t go like this forever
be the darkness
my light is burning through

Angel Mine's Valentine

I call my angel
Angel Mine
which might sound
a little corny
 
but my angel is
a little corny
a little sentimental
never in a mawkish way
 
but Angel Mine
I say you have a tender
heart and way to care
for one so blind
 
and he agrees
nothing if not honest
nothing if not fair

Heart Day Valentine

Here’s a bouquet of
pictures for you
of what’s blooming today
in my garden
 
as you are I hope
blooming today as always
two of these pictures
(can you find them?)
 
are of my newly-sprouted
morning glories blue
and purple some in a
pot some in the ground
 
under a trellis on
opposite sides of the
patio it’s a competition
for the best location
 
do you think they’ll
make it to bloom before
the heat kills them bad heat
but we’re going to try 

Seedless Valentine

A seed just wants to
make a new seed
the way a human
wants to make a new self
 
or to make many selves
just to get one that succeeds
in rooting sprouting
leafing flowering
 
but the green blood of the grass
stains the flagstones
when the bodies of summer
are dragged from the yard
 
all the self wants
is to make a seed
of a better self

National Valentine

In shade I sit
watching mocking
bird and hummingbird
and one intimidated sparrow
 
he would rather have
a criminal son who’s
straight than a national
athlete son who’s gay
 
America the high school country
molested by slavery as a child
now shorn of the ideals
of his early years
 
a bit of a bully and a bit of a creep
but brilliant so brilliant
it makes me weep

Lifted Glass Valentine

To the clear quadrant of sky
I’ve been given
and the block wall
of my garden my prison
 
and to the settling mound
of compost like a detached
breast I sprinkle some of
on my morning glorys
 
or is that ‘glories’
those to come and those
already among us if
largely invisible still
 
and to the little islands of heat
each of is
born from a love that endures

Time Becomes Space Valentine

The outward sign
of the real catastrophe
is the loss of the will to face
catastrophe itself
 
as always the immutable part
of any imminent collapse
but taking its sweet time
breaking all the records
 
an upheaval of the heart
which now we see
was scheduled all along
nostalgically inevitable
 
the sharp shadow of a bird
cutting through the sunlit wall
creating the world again

Benny's Valentine

A poem needs the serenity
of a suicide note without
all the bells and whistles
a stripped-down emergency
 
calmly reconnoitered later
seeking your forgiveness for
having slapped you
momentarily awake
 
and carefully talking you
down from the nightmare
of your life why not
admit that’s how it works
 
a trumpet sounds
but that’s just Benny
in the backyard practicing

Aquarius Moon Valentine

I want to paint
this blue pail of oranges
but I see the moon’s
already done that

I want to creep around

the house not to wake you
it’s like having you
and not having you
 
but of course you know
these thoughts don’t come
from my mind that snob
and stranger I live with
 
but from the deep under-
ground and widest
sky of my heart

Thinking's Valentine

So beautiful today
you feel like you’ll have
to pay for it in some way
pay it back it’s so rich
 
but in thinking thoroughly
you cannot come to
the wrong conclusions
if your thinking is true
 
do you think I live
just to wake up
and make you eggs
in the morning
 
do you think I live
just to love someone completely
yes you

Drop's Valentine

The naiveté of health in the face
of the deadliness of the truth
if you were set free
then you must be dead
 
and that we are still not
the acme of ourselves
and yet who else
could it be
 
who keeps stumbling
forward into the past
bumping into ourselves
and taking offense
 
and every day vanishing
like the last drop
of water on the earth

Sitting Valentine

I try to sit quietly with the world
the way I sat with my dying mother
who slept fitfully and woke
not knowing me anymore
 
I keep going over
the hills of her hand
looking to soothe her
looking to understand
 
she promises me she
will be young again
this awkward dying’s
only temporary pain
 
I think of all the years she’s struggled
I think of all the children she’s had
I wonder was it all in vain

Seymour's Valentine

Happiness is heroin
we can barely speak of it
when it kisses with its tongue
happiness is hard
 
obviously for all
who stick it out they go
right over the happiness bridge
even as the truth of their descent
 
begins to dawn upon them
happiness is holy
which explains our lack of it
the fears of our rejection
 
that it would turning away
be known
for the first and final time

Morning Valentine

A sense of the common good
a common sense of the good
a good sense of the common
but when I walk by their houses
 
scattered among hills or jammed
tight as slaves together in a ship
I see all that’s forgotten
a sense of the hidden world
 
behind the obvious subject matter
an adamant refusal to see the body
as a product of moral pain
though we have all been left alive
 
for now as in some fairy story
closing our eyes to cross the bridge of death
and hurrying back by morning

Bob Dylan is Not the Bodhisattva Valentine

We don’t say ‘frick you’
or ‘I’ll frick you up’
but we do say ‘fricking’
because words are irresponsible
 
which is not a terrible thing
not to trust them past
their level of expertise
the limits of their ‘seducibility’
 
like the word ‘desire’
which could mean anything
but always includes ‘sire’
‘ire’ and ‘fire’ you don’t
 
have to spell it out
you can sit in the sun and stare
but it’s always there churning

Bodhisattva's Valentine

If reality is only a side-street
not a grand thoroughfare
if reality is an autobahn
not an anonymous alley
 
but compared to actual reality
our languages are still autistic
of course these are relative terms
so a language not yet speakable
 
will have to be created
if certain things can finally
get to be said and not the things
that bring death into the world
 
but the words themselves must act
like seeds proliferating unstoppably
a new spring in the human soul

Knowing Myself Valentine

When I’m alone
I still don’t know
who or what I am
but it’s not an issue
 
I wrote that last night
before I fell asleep
but in a dream I completely
reversed myself
 
I had total self-awareness
and it was quite a shock
I mean how one can just
keep going on and on
 
recalling all one has been
and in a variety of moods
arranging all one will be

Revelator's Valentine

We did see the catastrophe
coming right at us but we
were already in the midst
 
of our own personal disasters
our minds full of the hurricane
of the present moment
 
preoccupied as it is with collapse
and survival but would it be any
different without these bodies
 
as distractions to be mastered
or succumbed to at least
there’s that joy in the world
 
though we still haven’t decided
if we actually want to live here
or just keep killing one another 

Tonight's Valentine

We accept as life
that we have never felt safe
on this earth
 
but we want to and do
come out of our houses
in search of it
 
after that it’s a matter
of the traffic and the questions
we come up with on the way
 
the fact that all of this
will have to be acknowledged
and then refused
 
so that this universe can pass
us on to the next universe
and we can sleep sound tonight

George Stanley's Valentine

A beautiful Asian(?) creature
appeared this morning and said
my muscles are for you
 
he must be an elemental
but he loves to make breakfast
after we make love
 
desire is never over
not in this world
or even the next
 
I’ve never seen anyone
sweat so much making love
which embarrasses him a little

but I rub him

all over me
until we are one

Elegiac Valentine

One by one
the roses bow their heads
and die
 
some had already died
still standing
the bowing merely followed
 
in life they stood erect
and so red they ran
right into you
 
where they remain
speaking in tongues
calling our names

Human Valentine

Isn’t this just a picture
of us two white doves
one attacked by a seagull
the other by a crow
 

and is the pope Aesop

standing in the window
a young boy on one side
a young girl on the other
 
as if the crow and the gull
were always there waiting
to devour that sweet meat
while the children watch
 
as if the world had already exploded
leaving us with the gull
to carry us over the water
and the crow to drag us under 

Open Secret Valentine

The gods masked
as our co-conspirators
our logical comeuppances
having set us in motion
 
like a breeze through the trees
turned and waltzed away
so that we could argue alone
if they ever really existed
 
and that all this universe
made itself up out of nothing
that gradually became something
then many many somethings
 
the way a formula unfolds
in an ancient manuscript
the secret of all things
the faint aroma of the stars

Angel's Valentine

I hate when they
tell me I’m right
especially if it’s about
something terrible
 
but I have a knack
for disasters which
is why I’m always waiting
at the scene with water
 
and usually with laughter
that and a dozen roses
and the uncanny ability
to be anyone at all

Another Day With You Valentine

It’s cozy in here
I think it’s a Monday
the fog in the bay
may never clear
 
but then it does
lift like a draw-bridge
over the cliff-edge
floating away like fuzz
 
revealing an amber beach
we can walk to after lunch
down the eternal switchbacks
the way I keep backtracking
 
going over and over it
how nothing is ever done
but that’s why we’re doing it
and then we can lie in the sun

Immoral Valentine

Always what I promised
was more than I
could deliver
I had to disappoint
 
which next to forgery
or fraud is subtler
and of a finer habitude
but when I was seven
 
I wanted my friends to
be happy so I pretended
it was my birthday and
invited them all to the party
 
which was in just one hour
so they better get home
and figure out what they
were going to give me
 
and yes we’ll have
cake and ice cream
I’ll give you whatever you want
that was just the way I thought

Joy in the Movement of Life Valentine

Some people would rather
believe in luck
than believe in God
or in bad luck

than in themselves

but I love myself
enough for when
one grasps immediately

the illusory nature

of the earth but it
takes forty years to prove
that perception in daily

life’s accumulation
until we ourselves demand
our own purification
hungry for heaven