Looking for God (its big machine)

I looked for god in the knot of the wood I looked in the garnet heap and hungry I hungered

under the tongue of the rough where ice formed in the river’s oxbow came I up cold in moving

current looked and looked where branch met wound and wound its undoing as if to move from

one place to the other were to bloom outward from looking I forgot to look in the swirls and

eddies boredom made of me its pasture and grass and at my boys’ sandy knees I looked or

forgot them there the loam from the sill made me look again for the trace of its billowing a room

too large to catalog the hunger found in molecules as if this blooming formed a kind of looking

of attic noise and leaf-must under the smooth wing of small burden into scarcity and loss did I

look that chorus of song wherein the boys their water sounds immersive as if ongoing but all

things move so sang them into the minor third of all such as can be known as if to touch the

hand that stops short its big machine