Eden
I have been searching for Eden
among the dull books,
the green place left of Sumer,
the first green before the gold
tarnished, and the pinks muted all color.
I have been looking for a day
before men had their way,
before good, before bad, before lover.
I have been looking for the kind
of people living then, sure that birds were plain
beside their foliage, and their wonder.
Birds, words, now, are vain,
and there’s no meaning, anymore, in splendor,
nor the wild way, the summer within summer.