I finished this book earlier today. Here is one of the poems that stood out. I liked the line about "All things are imbued with God's being."
Night Picnic
There was a sky, starless and vast--
Home of every one of our dark thoughts--
Its door open to more darkness.
And you, like a late door-to-door salesman,
With only your own beating heart
In the palm of your outstretched hand.
All things are imbued with God's being--
(She said in hushed tones
As if his ghost might overhear us)
The dark woods around us,
Our faces, which we cannot see,
Even this bread we are eating.
You were mulling over the particulars
Of your cosmic insignificance
Between slow sips of wine.
In the ensuing quiet, you could hear
Her small, sharp teeth chewing the crust--
And then, she moistened her lips.
Source: Simic, Charles. 2003. "The Voice at 3:00 A.M." Orlando, Florida: Harcourt, Inc., p.151.