Sellinger’s Round, or, The Beginning of the World

Listen to Glenn Gould play Sellinger’s Round: it will play in a separate window

Make a dance it’s like smoke,
Or drawing on steam.
But that was Creation for ya.
God was a child or an angel,
Playing on the strand,
Building castles of wet sand.

And so the children you seem to have lost
Like your car keys, tempest-tossed
In someplace so obvious you don’t look there.

After a certain age, a man needs a housekeeper,
Or a wife who’s resigned, or a grown daughter.
He doesn’t know how to make things sparkle
Unless he takes a class in it at the community college,
And there’s no money, or time, for this.

She makes it so and takes pride in it
And you clean up before she comes
As a way of honoring her.

She finds things and hides things, like sunlight and its shadow
Making dazzle patterns upon the green meadow,
Tracing the footsteps of Sellinger’s Round
Little boy lost little boy found,
And borne, weeping, in triumph through Jerusalem


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