The Two-headed Calf

Tomorrow when the farm boys find this
freak of nature, they will wrap his body
in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north
field with his mother. It is a perfect
summer evening: the moon rising over
the orchard, the wind in the grass.
And as he stares into the sky, there
are twice as many stars as usual.

A Toast to the Alchemists

Alchemists,
you were right, it is
possible.
We have the proof now.
There are equations.

If you could come back
for a day, if you could
conjure yourself into
this chemistry classroom,
if you could read the
textbook or watch the
professor writing the
answers on the board . . .

Alchemists,
you would see that you
were right, even though
you didn't know about
alpha and beta radiation,
even though you didn't
understand isotopes,
you knew it was possible,
that some elements can
change into other elements,
that transmutation can
occur.

Alchemists,
there is proof now that
it is possible, although
each new element, having
a brief half-life, would
keep changing into other
things.

Alchemists,
you were right, you can
make anything, anything,
uranium, plutonium, tel-
lurium, mercury, copper,
cobalt, platinum, silver,
and gold, you can make
gold, an isotope so
radioactive it would
sparkle before your eyes.

Alchemists,
you were right.
It is magic.

The Secret

There is a secret to it—how a frog egg becomes a
frog. It is a secret that only frogs know and
they pass this knowledge on from generation to
generation, improving it, changing it slightly
over the millions of years, but never losing the
fundamental knowledge of how to become a frog.

Humans now understand how this secret is handed
down through the generations. All the necessary
information is carried on the chromosomes of each
cell of every frog, from parent to child and to that
child's children.

But although humans understand how the secret is
passed along, only the frogs know what the secret
is.

Examination

The grass is green. Do you know why?
The sky is blue.     Do you know why?
Can you tell me what life is?

You mean you don't know?
You mean you only have vague ideas?
What do you mean it's not important?

Aren't you interested in the scientific
        approach to life?
Wouldn't you like to prove your abstract
        hypotheses, to find evidence for your
reasonable conclusions?

Scientists explain that the grass is green
        because of a substance called chlorophyll,
        from the Greek words "chloro" and "phyll"
        meaning "green leaf."
They say the sky is blue because of reflections.

Have you ever thought seriously about reflections?
When you look in a mirror do you know what you see?
Move closer to it.
Look into each eye like the aperture of a microscope.
Can you bring it into focus?
Can you identify what you see?
Is it moving?
Can you see it grow?
Is it trying to divide?
Is it empty?
Is it sucking in what's around it?
Is it still moving?
Is it moving towards something?
Is it moving away from something?
Is it near the edge?
Has it stopped moving?
Do you know why?
Is it watching you?
Do you know what it sees?
Can you identify what it sees?
Can you ask it to describe what it sees?
Can you ask it to explain its answers?
Can you ask it to explain other answers?
Can you ask it to explain why the grass is green?
Can you understand its answer?
Do you speak the same language?

Infinity

Infinity is what you don't understand
        like the number of stars, for example.

You say there is an infinite number of stars
        only because you haven't counted them.

        (Better to plead infinity than ignorance.)

But the stars can be counted
        and grains of sand can be counted
        and blades of grass can be counted
        flakes of snow can be counted
        drops of water in the sea can be counted
        molecules in the universe can be counted
        atoms and electrons can be counted
        photons can be counted . . .

Only what you don't know is infinite.

Seeing a Dog in the Rain

It is raining and there is a dog lying
in the gutter and the gutter is filling
with water because the sewer is clogged.

If the dog were alive he would be drowning
but as it is, the water is simply stroking
his fur.

Life After Death

(for Burnett, 1945-1971)
Some of us die young
because we want to know
everything.

I

You lived too soon.
If you had waited,
if you had slowed down
for a moment
I might have caught up with you.

Instead, I was always arriving
just as you were ready to leave.
Our few moments together
were always spent saying good-bye.

But that summer our timing was off.
I arrived but you were
already gone.

I looked for you
among the faces at the airport
but you were not there.

I went back to the places
where we used to meet
but you were not there.

I've heard that
when a person dies
he sees his whole life
pass before him.

Is that true? Did you
see me in that last moment?
Was I there?

II

The children we never had
are dying inside me.
Their faces are moons
on dark water.
They drift closer and closer
almost within reach.

Their eyes float open
milk white and blind.
They dream of waking.
I dream of holding them
asleep in my arms.

I hear their heartbeats
like the echo in seashells
deep inside me. For a moment
I could almost feel them
their feet and elbows nudging me
their small bodies turning.

Now they are sinking
deeper and deeper into me
holding their twisted life lines
in their hands, attached
to nothing.

Not even wreckage
floats on the dark water.
Not even the moon.

III

You knew your life was suicide
        but it didn't stop you.

You knew too much.

You knew the last step would be the hardest
        the one where there is nothing under
        your foot.

You knew the rest would come easily.

You knew the fall would justify the climb.

You knew too much.

You knew too many languages.

You knew there were no words
        for what had to be said.

You knew your bones spread over the rocks
        would say enough.

You knew your past would always hold onto you.

You knew how to let go.

You knew too much.

But you wanted to know everything.

IV

The things I know:
        how the living go on living
        and how the dead go on living with them

So that in a forest
        even a dead tree casts a shadow
        and the leaves fall one by one
        and the branches break in the wind
        and the bark peels off slowly
        and the trunk cracks
        and the rain seeps in through the cracks
        and the trunk falls to the ground
        and the mass covers it

        and in the spring the rabbits find it
        and build their nest inside
        and have their young
        and their young will live safely
        inside the dead tree
So that nothing is wasted in nature
        or in love.