The Animals Underneath

My morning coffee
Is taken at a window
From which i can see
The animals
That stand to
Inherit my house.

They are small, quick,
Tremulous things
With rapid pulses
And nervous eyes.

We,
Who live in
Rectangular fortresses,
Disdain these
Quickened creatures.
They dig up the bulbs
And burrow under
The foundation.

They are always busy.

They multiply furiously.

Even as they scurry,
Looking hunted,
They meekly munch
And politely trample
All that human hands
Have daintily set
In the black soil
Of suburbia.

And yet,
Each morning i say,
As i raise my cup:

"i salute you,
Survivors of civilization:
You, who will live on
After we who build
Have finished with our
Own destruction.

May you continue to rise
Toward shy dominion

Over what has been given,
Slowly,
Carefully,
Lovingly --

Especially to you."

--Mr. Gobley

The Schrodinger Shift

I read John Gribbin's book on quantum physics, In Search of Schrödinger's Cat. Towards the end, he seriously entertains as a live option the notion that we brought the universe into existence by observing it. -- Micah Newman

Here at last
Is the secret
Of our unfolding!

We are made
Of what we make,
We are
Both paper
And crease --

An organic origami,

An evanescent Escher,
Emergent from Mind --

But whose?

We are
To procreate
And co-create:

We make others
(With others)
Even as we
Make ourselves
(With no other,

Other than
The Other
That is All)!

We spiral around
This empty center,
Making a double-helix
Of Self and No-Self,
Until, at last,
We are self-less.

Having made
That which we observe,
We observe
What we have made,
And in this Sabbath moment,
Our creation --
Our soul --

Is made to midwife itself
Into miraculous Being,
And become
All, and more than all:

Which is to say,
Complete.

--Mr. Gobley

A letter to my friends

Dear Readers:

i have published a few of the posts that have appeared here, through iUniverse.

i hope you might buy one of these small books for yourself, or for a friend who might benefit from seeing and hearing some of what i have seen and heard.

You can get the book here, here or even here.

i suppose a store would order it, if you asked them to.

As soon as i can figure out how to put the 'buy my book' button in the right-hand column, i will do so.

Happy reading.

Faithfully yours,

--Mr. Gobley

Heat and Wind

The two promises
Are whispered
Across millennia;

The eternal emissaries
Of life
Come together

In a violent embrace
That bequeaths to us
A storm of
Sensuous strength:

It is the season,
In this tropical realm,
To feel the languid fire
And the stinging rain,

And to love the God
Who pushes a profusion
Of life
Up through the
Marshes
And the
Tidal flats

And the flattened
Subdivisions.

Life takes less time
To restore itself
Than even hope.

Remember this,
And know that
The storm that
Passes over you

Brings great bounty:
The heat stirs life,
The wind brings change,

And the silence after
Opens a lighted space
For seedlings
Of hope.

--Mr. Gobley

Meditation for a Railroad Crossing

Time has not stopped,
But it has been detained.

The ringing of the crossing bells
And the rhythmic clatter
Of the rails
Both mark the measure of its
Prison sentence:
Unceasing, oblivious,
Syncopated
Sluicing
Of cells,

And this:

The flow of a day
Perforated
By a thundering arrow

Comprised of cars:
Flat,
Box,
Tank:

Their syllables
As square and regular
As the beat they keep.

i keep this beat, too:
My heart, my breath
Align themselves
With the biorhythms
Of this mighty
Yet somnolent
Beast.

And here am i,
Moving and still,
Inside and out,
Centered
And utterly
Lost to myself.

When the train is gone:

Nirvana!

The gates rise,
The bells cease,
And time flows freely
Through cleared arteries.

The geometric clutter
And clatter
Recede into infinity --

And i return to
The box,
Tank,
Flat cars
Of my day.

i ride time's rails
Toward my own
Point of parallax,

Glad to have known
This
Train
Of Moments.

--Mr. Gobley