The Fine and the Coarse



Rub your finger over life

            And feel the texture and the grit of it.


Life can lift no finger, but it senses

            That which touches it as smooth and fine.


Both long for, yet fear, union,

            Shrink back at the touch


Unless some conjury of music, word, or will,

            Or natures course, shall make them stay


And consummate their procreative ecstasy

            In which both perish


To become that precious thing

            Toward which Creation sacrificed its holy emptiness




            By Richard Hodges

            Thursday Mar 13 2014, 4 AM