For Jobe and Webb
…in all that he does he prospers.
I dance before invisible design
To find the world a rolling ball of shit
But make its mother lode of singing mine.
My feet would stamp and tamp, a tambourine
To shake the stars and make them answer what
I dance before invisible design.
The wicked walk and sinners’ stand define
What never moves. While silly scoffers sit
I make a mother lode of singing mine.
Conspire and plot beneath the sun in vain,
But purest action knows I roll with it.
I dance my own invisible design.
My feats may never meet the bottom line,
But tracing closely Eden’s rising plot
I make its mother lode of singing mine.
Let Sisyphus see toil’s anodyne
As nothing more than bloody sweat and spit –
I dance for You, invisible design,
And make your mother lode of singing mine.