Two and a Half Donuts

We eat the concentric rings of our lives.
The crescent that cradles what's left
Of our hollow center
Slides down time's throat,
Taking our soul with it.

All that is held
Is held in the center:
Air, emptiness:

The first donut firmly establishes this lesson
In the mind of the initiate.
The slight crunch of the baked shell
Between your teeth,
The surrender of the dough
To your steaming palate,
Move you through the lesson,
But your lust overwhelms it.

The second donut,
Eaten more deliberately,
Chewed more thoughtfully,
Is the beginning of
An Awakening.

And the last half --
Which begins with the cradled emptiness
And ends with substance --
Is a crullered coda:

Never do once,
What can be done
(With deepening concentration
And a half


In Praise of Small Change

The obdurate, obstinate coin:

Hangnail of capital,
Orphan of the bank note,
Shard of shattered worth;

Erstwhile screwdriver,
Denizen of ashtrays,
Swimming in figure-stamped schools
Through childrens' desks:

How you exemplify all that is good!

In the dark, in the drawer,
In the jug behind the door,
Buried under strata of
Your brethren,
You remain
At attention,
Neither more
Nor less
Than you were
(Inflation does not
Diminish your constancy).

At night, the upside-down presidents
Confer with their neighbors,
The flag-bearing cavalry
Of a chivalrous state,

And determine to
Stay the Course.

And stay they do.

There is no better friend than these:
Both flat and round,
Historic and hum-drum,
They move through time
By standing still
As we hurry by,

Scrambling to be worth
Only a little less
Than we were worth
A moment ago.

--Mr. Gobley


When God Created Godself

When God created Godself,
She unfurled into a cosmos
Of Becoming
And made room out of
What had not been
For what would yet be.

"This," God said,
"Is where I will reside:
In the nexus where non-Being
Meets Being --
Where No-Thing
Meets Becoming."

And it is here --
In life's forward-leaning
Love of Being,
And in Mind's
Restless Minding,

That God speaks.
Here you will find
The smallest of all miracles
And the greatest of all forces --

The thumbnail's growth
And the glacier's grinding solace.

All that is and will be
Spirals from the womb
Of the first
Becoming --

Beyond our wildest dreams,
To Her,
The Self-Making
Of all Presence.

Turn back now.
Make a pact with
Untie the knots of
And Pride
That tether you
To merely having been.

Not to be
Born Again,
But to continue
Being born,

Is the tireless task
Through which

--Mr. Gobley