Eight Stones for Simone Weil

simone twice

London is filled
with delicious little squares.
Sycamores rustle
above the lichened
bench, as I
weigh the
fullest possibilities
of self reduction.
Sparrows skip about
to search the paving.


Whatever I can
do to myself,
will it balance out
whatever is
happening beyond
the perimeter of
this sunken garden?


We consider, with
a lecturer’s wand,
the purest geometry
of existence:
cause and effect,
the mathematical
idealism of the arc.


A worker raises aloft
his hammer
before the strike.


It is painful
beyond any endurance
to feel this point.
To feel this
point is to know, with
an absolute clarity.


The God withdraws
himself almost
in his entirety
to leave a
waste of
time and
space, so
as to create
an abandonment
across which he
can come to meet us.


The humble and
obedient trees
being hacked
down to
construct the
slats of the
brutal instruments.


I am just a
microscopic crumb
to effect the angle at
which the planet rests
on Christ’s
appalling fulcrum.

Theresa of Ávila

teresa 2 2

Always fading in and out

the myriad creatures

coming from the opened gates of creation


I look into the mouth, the entrance

and the fissure is opening

in what I thought was solid


in my own chest too

the wound is opening

in what I thought was solid


and the pain of it makes me still

and try and sit through it, please

I might cry to the hurting god


and the sitting through becomes

a kind of knowledge

and the god suffering through


whatever the god suffers too

becomes a kind of compassion

the companionship of passion


and the myriad creatures

between these twin gateposts

which I don’t need to spell out


for a reader such as yourself, I know,

come flowing out like

a spillage of blood,


spoilage of water, the beautiful

and the putrid, the vanity

and the superabundance of humility.