wade the night
through snow or owl calls or whatever else comes to mind. Night
is dark.
Dark is
not dark to me
and when the pack falls behind
and i drink from the icy
stream
i live. i have teeth. I live.
10/31/2008
TRADE: (Part of my POETRY-FOR-PIE campaign)
The ton of the crou,
the wheat of the buck,
the ride in the cab of your dad's pick-up truck.
The leave of the French,
the tic of the tac,
I'm gonna leave you just so I can come back.
The cake of the fruit
and the chit of the chat
You're the welcoming part of my welcome-home mat.
the wheat of the buck,
the ride in the cab of your dad's pick-up truck.
The leave of the French,
the tic of the tac,
I'm gonna leave you just so I can come back.
The cake of the fruit
and the chit of the chat
You're the welcoming part of my welcome-home mat.
10/29/2008
Unarmed Combat - by Henry Reed
In due course of course you will all be issued with
Your proper issue; but until tomorrow,
You can hardly be said to need it; and until that time,
We shall have unarmed combat. I shall teach you.
The various holds and rolls and throws and breakfalls
Which you may sometimes meet.
And the various holds and rolls and throws and breakfalls
Do not depend on any sort of weapon,
But only on what I might coin a phrase and call
The ever-important question of human balance,
And the ever-important need to be in a strong
Position at the start.
There are many kinds of weakness about the body,
Where you would least expect, like the ball of the foot.
But the various holds and rolls and throws and breakfalls
Will always come in useful. And never be frightened
To tackle from behind: it may not be clean to do so,
But this global war.
So give them all you have, and always give them
As good as you get; it will always get you somewhere.
(You may not know it, but you can tie a Jerry
Up without rope; it is one of the things I shall teach.)
Nothing will matter if only you are ready for him.
The readiness is all.
The readiness is all. How can I help but feel
I have been here before? But somehow then,
I was the tied-up one. How to get out
Was always then my problem. And even if I had
A piece of rope I was always the sort of person
Who threw rope aside.
And in my time I had given them all I had,
Which was never as good as I got, and it got me nowhere.
And the various holds and rolls and throws and breakfalls
Somehow or other I always seemed to put
In the wrong place. And, as for war, my wars
Were global from the start.
Perhaps I was never in a strong position.
Or the ball of my foot got hurt, or I had some weakness
Where I had least expected. But I think I see your point.
While awaiting a proper issue, we must learn the lesson
Of the ever-important question of human balance.
It is courage that counts.
Things may be the same again; and we must fight
Not in the hope of winning but rather of keeping
Something alive: so that when we meet our end,
It may be said that we tackled wherever we could,
That battle-fit we lived, and though defeated,
Not without glory fought.
Your proper issue; but until tomorrow,
You can hardly be said to need it; and until that time,
We shall have unarmed combat. I shall teach you.
The various holds and rolls and throws and breakfalls
Which you may sometimes meet.
And the various holds and rolls and throws and breakfalls
Do not depend on any sort of weapon,
But only on what I might coin a phrase and call
The ever-important question of human balance,
And the ever-important need to be in a strong
Position at the start.
There are many kinds of weakness about the body,
Where you would least expect, like the ball of the foot.
But the various holds and rolls and throws and breakfalls
Will always come in useful. And never be frightened
To tackle from behind: it may not be clean to do so,
But this global war.
So give them all you have, and always give them
As good as you get; it will always get you somewhere.
(You may not know it, but you can tie a Jerry
Up without rope; it is one of the things I shall teach.)
Nothing will matter if only you are ready for him.
The readiness is all.
The readiness is all. How can I help but feel
I have been here before? But somehow then,
I was the tied-up one. How to get out
Was always then my problem. And even if I had
A piece of rope I was always the sort of person
Who threw rope aside.
And in my time I had given them all I had,
Which was never as good as I got, and it got me nowhere.
And the various holds and rolls and throws and breakfalls
Somehow or other I always seemed to put
In the wrong place. And, as for war, my wars
Were global from the start.
Perhaps I was never in a strong position.
Or the ball of my foot got hurt, or I had some weakness
Where I had least expected. But I think I see your point.
While awaiting a proper issue, we must learn the lesson
Of the ever-important question of human balance.
It is courage that counts.
Things may be the same again; and we must fight
Not in the hope of winning but rather of keeping
Something alive: so that when we meet our end,
It may be said that we tackled wherever we could,
That battle-fit we lived, and though defeated,
Not without glory fought.
A Little Infinitude
Dear Frank,
Today I climbed up the tree of my being
and sat in the high wind of an existential crisis. It was pretty tremendous,
and I almost came to the limits of neither earth nor abyss, before I climbed down again
to make dinner for Hannah and the boys.
I miss you.
I miss your irritating de Bevoirian sense of timeliness and the maddening way you counterpoint my assertions about the world with "As a matter of fact..." just so i'll take the bait and we can tussle for a bloody half-hour in bloody half-earnest.
When you are gone some part of, how shall I say it,
life's unencumberedness
is lost.
It's been pickpocketed. Tatterdemalion beauties stay in the shy corners,
and everything's just a bit stark.
Mother always told me
men tangle up the skein of reason,
but she never said the other part,
that you re-wind the tangles into reasonability.
Did i mention that I miss you,
or that
it is autumn
and the leaves on the tree of my being are flushed to crimson
and ochre and
(my favorite) babylonian gold? It doesn't much matter. I realize this is absurd, but
Come home.
They're predicting high winds for the next week.
Today I climbed up the tree of my being
and sat in the high wind of an existential crisis. It was pretty tremendous,
and I almost came to the limits of neither earth nor abyss, before I climbed down again
to make dinner for Hannah and the boys.
I miss you.
I miss your irritating de Bevoirian sense of timeliness and the maddening way you counterpoint my assertions about the world with "As a matter of fact..." just so i'll take the bait and we can tussle for a bloody half-hour in bloody half-earnest.
When you are gone some part of, how shall I say it,
life's unencumberedness
is lost.
It's been pickpocketed. Tatterdemalion beauties stay in the shy corners,
and everything's just a bit stark.
Mother always told me
men tangle up the skein of reason,
but she never said the other part,
that you re-wind the tangles into reasonability.
Did i mention that I miss you,
or that
it is autumn
and the leaves on the tree of my being are flushed to crimson
and ochre and
(my favorite) babylonian gold? It doesn't much matter. I realize this is absurd, but
Come home.
They're predicting high winds for the next week.
10/28/2008
A brief poem: For Jules Mazarin
Sagacious. Cardinal to the last,
a man who vexed the comfort of kings
and never avoided contention, with red galero
broad in the midst of duty or doctrine.
Don the dalmatic, o cardinal bishop, that shows us your soul;
above the simple white mitre your canny mind and eyes
are masked in pious downcast silence; we know your kind
and hope you know your place.
"His Eminence Cardinal First-Name Last-Name" are you aware
the man you walk behind
did surely see the face of God,
and made us feel the power of His austerity?
a man who vexed the comfort of kings
and never avoided contention, with red galero
broad in the midst of duty or doctrine.
Don the dalmatic, o cardinal bishop, that shows us your soul;
above the simple white mitre your canny mind and eyes
are masked in pious downcast silence; we know your kind
and hope you know your place.
"His Eminence Cardinal First-Name Last-Name" are you aware
the man you walk behind
did surely see the face of God,
and made us feel the power of His austerity?
10/27/2008
You Came, Too - Nikki Giovanni
I came to the crowd seeking friends
I came to the crowd seeking love
I came to the crowd for understanding
I found you
I came to the crowd to weep
I came to the crowd to laugh
You dried my tears
You shared my happiness
I went from the crowd seeking you
I went from the crowd seeking me
I went from the crowd forever
You came, too
I came to the crowd seeking love
I came to the crowd for understanding
I found you
I came to the crowd to weep
I came to the crowd to laugh
You dried my tears
You shared my happiness
I went from the crowd seeking you
I went from the crowd seeking me
I went from the crowd forever
You came, too
10/25/2008
in progress
God spoke to Moses from a the middle of a burning bush in the boondocks of Midian, I recall hopefully. Maybe he'll speak to me from Joan's space heater out here in rural Virginia - there's sorta a flame at the top
Joan and Cheryl, two ex-hippies sitting on a porch with the fading green hills of October darkening in front of them, concerned with the small prayers and problems of homemakers. God has not called everyone to bleed and suffer and go without sleep and food and flushing toilets; he has allowed some to sit in rocking chairs with dogs and cats and homemade gingerbread warm from the oven. Joan talks constantly, forcefully. She gestures and tosses her short, chic hairstyle for emphasis. She tells informative stories. Around her is the brick-a-brack of 50 years of traveling- bright Jamaican magnets on the fridge, Ethiopian butterfly art on the walls,a mix of Mediterranean and home-style country clutter. In a calm chaos she grinds her Brazilian coffee and warns me not to follow the wisdom of the world. "Put both feet in Truth, in Christ."
Joan and Cheryl, two ex-hippies sitting on a porch with the fading green hills of October darkening in front of them, concerned with the small prayers and problems of homemakers. God has not called everyone to bleed and suffer and go without sleep and food and flushing toilets; he has allowed some to sit in rocking chairs with dogs and cats and homemade gingerbread warm from the oven. Joan talks constantly, forcefully. She gestures and tosses her short, chic hairstyle for emphasis. She tells informative stories. Around her is the brick-a-brack of 50 years of traveling- bright Jamaican magnets on the fridge, Ethiopian butterfly art on the walls,a mix of Mediterranean and home-style country clutter. In a calm chaos she grinds her Brazilian coffee and warns me not to follow the wisdom of the world. "Put both feet in Truth, in Christ."
kneel down and listen to them pray
feel the warmth through the ceramic
of a mug bought halfway around the world
and wonder
if
a porch and a kitchen
a dog and three cats
two sons
and an introverted husband upstairs reading
is fulfilling the Great Commission.
DOOM:
A rather insensitive eulogy to threatened worms everywhere
Overcast Friday, wake up worms!
It might rain & kill your squirms –
this day might end with puddle-seas
soggy grass and harried trees;
for you little guys down in the dirt
all that water could really hurt
as for me, I'm feeling fine
the week has crossed the finish line;
papers done, classes out
IT'S FRIDAY NOW, just hear me shout!
Overcast Friday, wake up worms!
It might rain & kill your squirms –
this day might end with puddle-seas
soggy grass and harried trees;
for you little guys down in the dirt
all that water could really hurt
as for me, I'm feeling fine
the week has crossed the finish line;
papers done, classes out
IT'S FRIDAY NOW, just hear me shout!
10/23/2008
THOSE WHO MATTER MOST
ISMENE:
Please don't tell a soul what you are doing.
Keep it hidden. I'll do the same.
ANTIGONE:
For god's sake, speak out. You'll be more enemy to me
If you are silent. Proclaim it to the world!
ISMENE:
Your heart's so hot to do this chilling thing!
ANTIGONE:
But it pleases those who matter most.
ISMENE:
Yes, if you had the power. But you love the impossible.
ANTIGONE:
So? When my strength is gone, I'll stop.
ISMENE:
But it's the highest wrong to chase after what's impossible.
ANTIGONE:
When you say this, you set yourself against me. So you'll just let me and my 'bad judgment' go to hell. Nothing could happen to me that's half as bad as dying a coward's death!!!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When my strength is gone, I'll stop.
Her strength and purpose burn so clearly--the impossible is the only voice she'll listen to; it alone speaks to her heart to do what is RIGHT. Life is struggle; we must to distinguish between the highest wrong and those who matter most.
Please don't tell a soul what you are doing.
Keep it hidden. I'll do the same.
ANTIGONE:
For god's sake, speak out. You'll be more enemy to me
If you are silent. Proclaim it to the world!
ISMENE:
Your heart's so hot to do this chilling thing!
ANTIGONE:
But it pleases those who matter most.
ISMENE:
Yes, if you had the power. But you love the impossible.
ANTIGONE:
So? When my strength is gone, I'll stop.
ISMENE:
But it's the highest wrong to chase after what's impossible.
ANTIGONE:
When you say this, you set yourself against me. So you'll just let me and my 'bad judgment' go to hell. Nothing could happen to me that's half as bad as dying a coward's death!!!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When my strength is gone, I'll stop.
Her strength and purpose burn so clearly--the impossible is the only voice she'll listen to; it alone speaks to her heart to do what is RIGHT. Life is struggle; we must to distinguish between the highest wrong and those who matter most.
10/22/2008
seldom anticipated
man is perfectable by his own initiative.
he is lazy and distracted.
woman is perfectable by her own understanding.
she is just distracted.
L'etat c'est perfectible....by the people?
he is lazy and distracted.
woman is perfectable by her own understanding.
she is just distracted.
L'etat c'est perfectible....by the people?
10/19/2008
solstice
It's as if autumn died in me today; i embody the ending of a gold october.
my thoughts all tarnished, decomposing brown -
Plath and Rilke seem passed, brittle like bits of dead leaves. It's the tag end of something in my heart.
the geese have flown on, the orchards picked and abandoned,
i can't even write in meter.
Why? why this compost of unease? Why these lonely piles of brushwood?
You said you loved me, and I replied in kind,
but...there is a puritan sabbath soberness within,
physical and spiritual disconnect - it's as if autumn died inside me.
Where is the flaming maple? Where is the harvest moon?
Where is our mad laughter joyous in this sharpening wind?
I can't even write in meter.
My thoughts are dormant, stale....I think I will wait for the snows.
my thoughts all tarnished, decomposing brown -
Plath and Rilke seem passed, brittle like bits of dead leaves. It's the tag end of something in my heart.
the geese have flown on, the orchards picked and abandoned,
i can't even write in meter.
Why? why this compost of unease? Why these lonely piles of brushwood?
You said you loved me, and I replied in kind,
but...there is a puritan sabbath soberness within,
physical and spiritual disconnect - it's as if autumn died inside me.
Where is the flaming maple? Where is the harvest moon?
Where is our mad laughter joyous in this sharpening wind?
I can't even write in meter.
My thoughts are dormant, stale....I think I will wait for the snows.
10/14/2008
Nihonshu
Swathes of silk-
kimono days
a passing glancing, prancing gaze;
hobbled, stilted, fractured words
are bound within. Tormented herds
stamp the ground and shake the plain-
can my heart in one remain?
Like the stork out of the sky
awkward legs and awkward cry,
Like a wagon in long grass
like Yun's army at the pass,
halted, bitter, mired I
long for you,
my samurai.
Endless shadow-dreams do prove
that with you I am in love.
Moonless nights find me awake,
Your letters strong as ancient sake.
Return my friend! the swallows fly
the willow weeps and so do I.
My sash undone, my bed unmade
your absence sharp as Fusu's blade.
Return, my friend.
return.
kimono days
a passing glancing, prancing gaze;
hobbled, stilted, fractured words
are bound within. Tormented herds
stamp the ground and shake the plain-
can my heart in one remain?
Like the stork out of the sky
awkward legs and awkward cry,
Like a wagon in long grass
like Yun's army at the pass,
halted, bitter, mired I
long for you,
my samurai.
Endless shadow-dreams do prove
that with you I am in love.
Moonless nights find me awake,
Your letters strong as ancient sake.
Return my friend! the swallows fly
the willow weeps and so do I.
My sash undone, my bed unmade
your absence sharp as Fusu's blade.
Return, my friend.
return.
10/13/2008
WHAT COLOR IS RED?
Red was a color I thought I knew. Flashlight up against a hand - the red life shines within. Red I learned early from sharp things and stuff squirting out of me, from the book covers and dragon pictures of my library days, and the tiny columbine rockets sprouting in the backyard. "Red," i said, "That color is red."
But OH MY!
Alizarin
Terra cotta
Venetian red
Amaranth
Burgundy
Cardinal
Carmine
Carnelian
Cerise
Chestnut
Coral red
Crimson
Dark pink
Falu red
Fire engine red
Fuchsia
Magenta
Maroon
Mauve taupe
Orange-red
Persian red
Pink
Persimmon Red
Red-violet
Rose
Rose madder
Ruby
Rust
Puce
Sangria
Scarlet
But OH MY!
Alizarin
Terra cotta
Venetian red
Amaranth
Burgundy
Cardinal
Carmine
Carnelian
Cerise
Chestnut
Coral red
Crimson
Dark pink
Falu red
Fire engine red
Fuchsia
Magenta
Maroon
Mauve taupe
Orange-red
Persian red
Pink
Persimmon Red
Red-violet
Rose
Rose madder
Ruby
Rust
Puce
Sangria
Scarlet
SPECTRUM
monday: unduly blue
tuesday: olive drab
wednesday:fuchsia funk
thursday: eyore grey
friday: scarlet bits
saturday:raw umber
sunday: babylonian gold
tuesday: olive drab
wednesday:fuchsia funk
thursday: eyore grey
friday: scarlet bits
saturday:raw umber
sunday: babylonian gold
10/11/2008
First things First
As I was saying to you, O my heart,
Be still.
Remember what I said to you, before his heartbeat and hands were offered,
I said "Be still."
And do not cry, and do not think I will believe you if
you reply "I am."
For the heart that desires constancy from man will break.
Be still.
Be still.
Remember what I said to you, before his heartbeat and hands were offered,
I said "Be still."
And do not cry, and do not think I will believe you if
you reply "I am."
For the heart that desires constancy from man will break.
Be still.
10/09/2008
QUESTION
a small rock lay in the path
lay like a small doubt
right in the way of the careening hooves of a thousand horses
it wanted to cry out, but it was a rock, a stone, a solid silent nothing.
why wasn't it given a tongue to clamor, or a drum to strike or a larger rock
to shadow it
from
the four thousand unchangeable shocks
that
rocks are heir to?
lay like a small doubt
right in the way of the careening hooves of a thousand horses
it wanted to cry out, but it was a rock, a stone, a solid silent nothing.
why wasn't it given a tongue to clamor, or a drum to strike or a larger rock
to shadow it
from
the four thousand unchangeable shocks
that
rocks are heir to?
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