Denis Johnson

Denis Johnson
Denis Johnson 1949-2017

Friday, November 9, 2012

Immaculate Each Leaf, and Every Flower


And everywhere the smaller birds again noising, filling
steadily all the cracks between spells of rain…

                                                       *

As if song could still mean something useful.

                                                       *

Or a kind of pleasure, like forgiveness, came easily and,
summer storm that forgiveness is, passed quickly through.

                                                       *

And the undersong that has been your own voice saying No –
No I’m not afraid.

                                                       *

                       What we cannot do

              What we cannot undo

                                      All the work we must do


                                                        *
As for ruin – yes, but faintly.


                                                        *

The gray of doves.  The gray of doves, in shadow.



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