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Jonathan Wooding

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     There are two atheisms of which one is a purification of the notion of God.
          Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace

unblemished sky, as if clouds had never been,
windows a squirrel's grey reconnaissance
of fruitless January trees; jackdaws crack the air,
soil is ecstatic with frost, and the quince
too has finally lost its jaunty apples -
draped now only with snotty lichen, and
a redbreast robin trills

nothing is troublesome - frosted headstones
tilt in the churchyard under the clock's
golden numerals, and three starlings
glitter and preen in slant sun, gracing
a crooked steeple's goldproof rooster -
frostfire grass in the shadow of the church;
song-thrush sips the air

we have not reached the point
where God exists, or can play at being God -
we are land-sick with Simone's deifugal force,
unchurched, irreligious, but surnaturelle -
as if there were no God, and we know better
with each returning day, that
there is no other life




Oyster, tough with treasure,
candescent inclamation ex-
posed indifferently -

grammar's stultiloquy; bookfire;
event peculiar to yourself -
perpetuity's mirror.

Bound freedom-fighter,
folly's bedrock -
fulfilled loss.

Stone standing for yourself;
scandalous time-keeper -
appalling light.

You undertake me;
speak me; show me.



vanishing act

cuckoo flowers in the graveyard
herald sooty wings of jackdaws
clapping round the clock tower
of this lingering April frost;

marigolds flash on eye
glancing glacial water,
and weeping cherry blossoms
over Solomon, son of Solomon, in his grave

hawthorn, your blossom too is
unbelievable - a gladder of the earth -
parousian, paschal candles
giving birth to bliss

cuckoo flowers in the graveyard
and weeping cherry blossoms;
hawthorn's bliss and the unseen clock
of God's greening hands



Copyright © Jonathan Wooding, 2019