in memory of George Clark
the serenity of deep green hills in the near distance 
the clarity and spaciousness of perfect blue sky 
and the spirit like a lark ascending
sharp shaft of green and blue light 
striking me between heart and navel 
staggering me back, unable to breathe 
and I remember one who must have seen 
this same vision in a high Sierra meadow 
filled with flower light when he cried, 
guys, I could die right here—and then he did

Elegy for My 1958 Volkswagen

When My Ex Called in Sick

Going Outside While Listening to Music

He had it all—fertile farms, fine family— 
and he gave thanks to the Lord in the proper ways, 
and on occasion he would murmur to himself, 
This, too, shall pass, though not so anyone would hear him. 
And then, one day…it went. 
Poof. 
Farms gone, family gone, and Job 
accepted loss as he had accepted the gain. 
The tree that had grown strong under good management 
still stood, though without all the bright surroundings. 
And he murmured quietly, This, too, shall pass. 
The storm shook the tree, but still the tree stood.
Then Job was assaulted by every sort 
of sore and ailment and misery. And as he sat 
in his dejection, he was attacked by 
the Three Stooges, who kept battering him, 
insisting that he must have sinned big time 
to deserve all this shit. Because, they proclaimed loudly, 
nothing happens that isn’t meant to happen.
But though truth may come from the mouths of fools, 
they will never understand it. 
Nonetheless, their castigations had their effect 
on a sick and weakened Job. 
He became angry. And then he became anger. 
And he railed against his fate. Lashed out at God.
The storm morphed to a hurricane 
and shook the tree to its roots. 
It tore the leaves of anger from the tree, 
and Job retained the sense to let them go. 
The tree stood, bare and bereft, 
but rooted more deeply than ever.
And Job bowed down and kissed the Center 
to which he had been returned, 
and dwelt there in Peace, 
while bad times came, and went, 
and good times came, and went. 
And he would sometimes murmur, 
This, too, shall pass. 
It might have been carved on his tombstone.
And Job bowed down and kissed the Center 
to which he had been returned, 
and dwelt there in Peace, 
while bad times came, and went, 
and good times came, and went. 
And he would sometimes murmur, 
This, too, shall pass. 
It might have been carved on his tombstone.

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May 9, 2013Going Outside While Listening to MusicPat Pittman

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May 9, 2013Going Outside While Listening to MusicPat Pittman

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Job by Pat Pittman