Mary Oliver's Dog Songs rule

Vick Mickunas gave me his review copy of Dog Songs, the soon-to-be-released book of poems by Mary Oliver.

He wrote a little note in the book, signed it over to me this way:

"Dear Jeff, poetry is an art. It rarely pays but it sure feels good. Vick"

On Vick's radio show, recorded over the phone while I was still in DC, I recited "The Courage All Around " and "Always Jewish, Lately Palestinian."

Then Vick recited Mary O's poem, "How It Is With Us, How It Is With Them."

It's a great poem. Everyone should read it. "The Storm (Bear)" is another good one, short and wise. It says better what I've tried to say in some of my own poems, like, say, "Ecstasy" or "The Smell of Eternity," which is also a dog poem.

But the poem from Dog Songs that I want to share here is "If You Are Holding This Book," which reads:

You may not agree, you may not care, but
if you are holding this book you should know
that of all the sights I love in this world--
and there are plenty--very near the top of
the list is this one: dogs without leashes."

There's only one thing that I'd change in Oliver's poem. I'd move the "of" at the end of the fourth line  to the beginning of the fifth and last line. How's that for picking nits?
                                                       

Three more from "Wild Once," including the title poem

Wild Once and Captured

On Hearing Annie Lennox

A whisper full of rhythms,

an echo raw with power,

a people spilling outward

in tidal flows of fever.

Here music summons silence,

here longing a language,

touching an allure,

dancing a passion play

and searching leads us

one by one

to stories all our own,

and to stories told in common.

Here smolders spirit

rich and ripe with promise,

peace and legend.

There drums yammering in clearings

where we are jamming with justice

who was wild once

and captured

and has broken out again.

Looking for More

{SVF seeks GBG}*

Lonely, infinite universe

seeks mature god to give

meaning to existence

Must enjoy communicating

across vast distances. I can be both

plus-sized and infinitesimally small,

hard-surfaced and sharp-edged. You’ll

find me coexisting with wet spots on

sheets soft as clouds. You show

great tolerance for small beings,

are a tad impatient with whiny

humans, other troubled species.

No promises, but this universe

interested in eons of relations

with a god of generosity and

justice. Must be polymorphous

perverse and committed to

evolution, welcome disorder

but tend, in small moments,

toward something like

order (a teasing little

trait that promises more than

it delivers). Sense of humor,

negotiable.

No long absences.

*Single Vast Female seeks Great Big God

The Smell of Eternity

On the heels of the hurricane,

recently stormed through,

comes aromatherapy for dogs.

The middle-sized black one

tracks the wounded,

follows fresh tears.

At the pure small pool

formed in the hollow below

the fallen tree’s root ball

is mudbath magic and

where the sun strikes home

rises

the smell of eternity.