Thanksgiving Cento (from Rod Smith)

to the house & sunlight, we become intelligible because the egret
didn't get through water, its
opulence isn't allowed, so to
the good part of the house
& to some birds, the birds right now

the police came & went
to many -- & to many there was no
behind the kitchen cabinet nobody
tripping, the house kneads the flower

half of it, for love
becomes blatant in its strength

into the long night, dreams
are votive, based on
house & holographic, pastoral
calligraphy, camp, &
is at an angle, for the good

the clothes on the floor arouse
to the swart angles
we house, actually we are housed

in the mania of inaction, a still, unbuilt shining thing where
the water is not good unless it is clear
it does not matter if we trust

& the year's angles bid
to the ratio of need -- wisdom
blade-shaped, bending
if no one pretended
like a scythe, well-oiled, fervent
suffering & bold

not unforced, not unburied, the
Sierra Nevada, screaming
for what is good hurts too

renewal, self-denial, &

it is quite a spectacle

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