In the closing poem, Biological Light.
I'm beginning to discover the more I look at this book
that I have no talent.
I just have a family.
The close of this book Biological Light
occurs out of another family context.
It rains an awful lot in Oregon.
I mean, it rains.
And in the Bible when they talk about 30 or 40 days,
it ain't true because they can rain more than that
without even having them start doing the awful thing.
But anyway, it had been raining.
And I was really going berserk.
And then the sun broke.
And I grabbed everybody.
And I said, let's go to the zoo.
I just was relating to the Ark I guess.
And not only do I say let's go to the zoo.
I say let's go to the aquarium.
And in the Tacoma zoo, in Tacoma, Washington there's
a plaque.
And on the plaque, they talk about a lot of things.
Well, usually, when I go to places like that,
I really can't function.
I mean, I can't memorize all the names.
I can't learn all of that information at once.
So when you went to school, they gave you the impression
that when you went on these trips, what you essentially
should do is just look like you're intelligent.
So it's a habit I've kept.
I walk into these places.
And what I can't deal with all that information.
So I just couldn't further.
And so there's this big plaque.
And I'm not going to read that.
I got to look at all these fish, the octopus.
So I decided, well, let me go.
And this all this look in the middle of the plaque.
And I see this statement biological light.
Well, as it turns out, really, my wife's personality
is just the opposite.
She is a walking catalog and computer of information.
And so she's walking through looking
at everything and reading.
And she's understanding all of that junk.
So while I'm just looking at one thing on the plaque,
she's reading the whole plaque.
And so I forget about this.
And I say at the end of it, I say oh, Biological Light, boy.
And she says fool, the machine.
You just push the button Biological Light.
And she bloom.
And she gives me all the information.
So I said, thanks a lot.
And I wrote the poem.
And Biological Light is for the most part,
I still can't even explain it.
But what it deals with is the idea of where
the sunlight comes down goes into the water you know fish,
plants absorb it.
Well, there are some fish in the lower levels
that never really have a direct access with sunlight.
Their access to sunlight is through the presence
of sunlight in other fish and other plants.
And so it's called biological light.
They come to light that way.
And essentially, when she tells me all of this,
it really fascinates me.
And what I just do is I say aha.
They eat light.
OK.
Well, that becomes very significant for me.
I don't know about other people.
Because in the Western tradition,
light represents truth.
And it's essentially pure, right?
So suddenly, you have an image of light involved
in a cannibalistic thing.
And that's essentially just the theme of the poem.
The quest for light the devouring of life,
and all of that stuff.
So I'll just read the poem.
And now be it, boy.
Then maybe I'll go home and ask her if she knows anything else.
We live here to eat.
Things stare at us.
Those things eat.
We call all of this hunger in the world.
Why?
Because we live here.
All over the world, morning light
is still happening like God.
It is so hard to tell who eats the plants first.
Insect or crepuscular.
The wind fields the smallest birds it's got.
If that is what we are, it's not a lot.
Here comes the fox.
Noon circles logically like the hawk.
God moves the rim around until the fox is in.
Now the fox is the hawk.
And all the small things he ate, believe him.
I have come here late.
The deer look like they have gone.
With thorns remind me more is going on.
Gradually, memory sets the table back.
I have come from across the water as far back as I can no.
Friends there have eaten me.
Now, I stand here.
That torn by hate as I myself have eaten them.
Late.
The owls say who for what more will surely come.
Finally, I am older, but not enough.
Surrounded by what I know is falling
back toward the grass more like luck than hope.
I am just lying here thinking this in my sleep.
How cold it is outside?
If we were fish where it is very dark, it would all be so easy.
Light would come from the dead things that we eat.
Thank you.