Sunday Sabbath Poetry: Sufjan Stevens

Vito's Ordination Song

by Sufjan Stevens

I always knew you
In your mother's arms

I have called your name:

I've an idea
Placed in your mind
To be a better man

I've made a crown
For you
Put it in your room

And when the bridegroom comes
There will be noise
There will be glad
And a perfect bed

And when you write a poem
I know the words
I know the sounds
Before you write it down

When you wear your clothes
I wear them too
I wear your shoes
And your jacket too

I always knew you
In your mother's arms

I have called you son:

I've made amends
Between father and son
Or if you haven't one

Rest in my arms
Sleep in my bed
There's a design
To what I did and said

Rest in my arms
Sleep in my bed
There's a design
To what I did and said

- - - - - - -

Tohu Va Vohu

Out of traffic like swarming insects
I ask you to call me, for you are silent
Non-idol of a world of intangibility
Cars are guns are people losing it
Cars are ships speeding between islands
The sea is black and blasphemous
A concrete abominable to the land and to God
The sea feeds fisticuffs and insanity
The highway sprouts yellow stability
The highway gives order found nowhere else
The air is toxic enemy, ready-made replaceable
There are teeth over the rail -- grass, and life
There is wilderness growing untamed there
The clouds will be reigned in soon enough
One day when fruition equals human achievement
One day when maturity means perpetual adolescence
The vagrants are enemy combatants, collateral damage
The dirty don't know what's best, they are expendable
Our transports soon will sport smart bombs and GPS
They will be machines of war and perfect
They will insure our never being late
They will guarantee no randomness or gift
They will be our slaves, and we will have evolved
The chip will guide and we will drink
Ourselves to a death kept at bay
Indefinitely by clever drugs and by fear
In this way war will be eternal, and we too