Some Poetry
copyright 1998
all rights reserved
Margaret's Magical
Letter Page
Margaret's Hone Page
my children
whisper their thoughts
my children
they have small shoes
and patter through their home
in differing directions
left and then right
they know which way to go
who is to say
to what brotherhood
they owe allegiance
by whose logic
the old order
is scattered in their wake
No! No!
they say
and then whisper in my ear
in their mystical tongue
surely they speak of trust
and little feet
1995
published at Word Salad, fall 2000
What eyes look down
And place transparent hands
Upon my thoughts.
He seeps into a glance
The lines of the hills
And animates.
He looks so in my face
And comes ferociously near
I cannot stand it.
I retreat into my chambers
He cannot enter without invitation
He cannot
But He waits
Not one language I fashion
But He learns it
And rewrites my words.
He whispers them through the cracks
As I search the fog
I have forgotten how to ask His simple
presence
Ask any simple presence
For as a wave of memory passes before mine eyes
He grants me no leisure or reflection
But stands immediately before me.
Oh, He is beautiful.
And no,
He rides no steed
Along a distant ridge
He is more familiar than my own footsteps
And so I can only acknowledge
He has found the address.
For here at long last
Stand I.
1995
published at Dove Cottage
These fires
These fires
They burn
In swelling hands
These heavy fires
Through black black night
Step, step
Step, step
Through night
What light
Through fires
Click
Fires
1995*
Writer's Forum
Cover over me
And thunder dimly
Dimly sound the voice
Yet I do stand
And still I walk
Crack!
Is heaven disemboweled
And rain clear water over me
Over me sweet wine
Such wild, sweet wine.
1995
Poetry of the Soul
At a watering hole
I lift the cup to me
And I do drink
Oh, God, for a voice
And Memory to fulfill it by
Else a thoughtless word
Gather speed
And run my race
I stand hard by
Through a long night
We sing songs
Imperfectly
But we do sing them
We do sing
I lift the cup to me
And I do drink
1995
published at Blue
Dawn
What forests breathe in horizontal
light
And stillness pour its thought through blackened branches
I am of December air whose memories drift invisible
And no fleshy owner
Of eyes and stockinged feet
Of other parts and pieces
Gather ye singers
And gather ye winds
Oh, gather ye
For we shall walk a long road
And never doubt our song
1995*
I turn back home
And see the light lie low across the grass.
When I was four
I was so sane
And saw how lilacs
Lean and form a fragrant purple corridor
To my door.
There is no exaggerated poetry in
this.
It is that way.
Every childhood must have light and lilacs
And a home to which they lead.
1995
I step thoroughly
The water soaks my ankles
And penetrates my entire boney foot.
Each word scrapes its shoulders
Through the narrow passage to my mind
And finally stands contemplative
Before the abyss.
It introduces itself gingerly
The awesome mind approaches
And holds it with such tenderness
Rejoicing like a prodigal.
I observe
And feel the calm Author of all at my shoulder
I long to kiss each solemn introduction
For each truth requires a witness
Lest it despair.
1995
Fatten the calf
And now already ring the bell
Its steady sound rise up the hill
A table spread
And my nose is in the wind already
Already in the wind.
1995
published at Dove Cottage
I think a line runs through the cloth
that now surrounds my ears and eyes.
I feel the friction of the thread
as it travels against the fabric.
And a tug down the way
to acknowledge arrival.
Sometimes I even learn
of an unmistakable pattern
local
yet lovely
witnessing to a grander arrangement.
But everything of significance
I only feel
The paper is too close to my nose
to read anything at all.
Could I only view from afar...
I feel myself plummet into hypothesis.
Nay, nay, nay, nay
The evening light
spreads such sweet peace across the valley
And the smells have unearthly memories...
This day is wanting nothing.
1995
Writer's
Forum
I see an image framed
The thought it answered waiting
In a darker place.
The play of sounds
Reflects each gesture of the mind
And finds one day a tune
And then a chord
Each bitter note dissolved.
I have seen this.
And still I long to die of this ugly
flood.
The color and demand.
God, spare me this tedious onslaught.
Why is it always the most distant and condemned drummer
Who knows the shortest path?
I would still the revelry with my mind
And walk complacent as a mountain lake.
1995
When a thought arises,
each tender moment
rests itself upon the table.
Water drips upon the page
And you enter a line
along which an angel may flow.
I hear such unearthly sounds
and slowly learn not to grasp
I am aided by thoughts
which walk the night
like virgins who come upon dear understanding
and kneel
and rest the night in his arms.
They rise in the morning known,
but I assure you undefiled.
Send your feet another direction
one silent inclination
and thoughts approach and assist you.
Thoughts without drama
Their significance lies in the unavoidable seed
which waits through the days and must sprout.
1995*
Regard!
an opening
and a dented existence
dissolved
the mind is enchanted
and travels the line easily
so easily
only the smoothness of the long rails
remains
Grant me a moment
and a conversation
I sense a red warm place
how freely I select the path
and how easily miss
in the inattentive moment
1995*
High, High
Held high, I say
And rapid run the water
Over stone
Clap, clap
Clap, clap
High and over stone
The mass and matter
Melt and slides a sheet
Shadows dance
In many ways they linger
Clap, clap
Clap, clap
Flow the river
And may it ever go
To the wide, wide sea
1995
Man is a brotherhood
Who rests in a sea I have seen
His grandeur pleases the Eye of God
The light and shadows do play
But listen only
Know your innocence
Lift each faltering heart
And He will look from every face
And his foot shine
From every path.
1995
published at Spirit Site
Pour your colors out across a page
And walk bare heeled and toed.
Tramp your thoughts thoughout your home
And out through that very small window
Into a world.
They'll not have you for a serf.
A chain of alarms about your collar
Your song ceaselessly edited
Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk,....
1995
behind the form what mind
does float
does inform each silent detail?
the wind sail hence and settle here
and scatter in it flakes of snow
that faultless and sublime
do dance and intermingle.
what mind would open conversation
with me thus?
what madness do I suffer
to doubt this thought
that rests so unambiguous before my eyes?
I ask
what madness and what mind?
1995
i assent
i assent to this life
to the climate
and the colors of the day
what food you put before me
i will eat
and look again
at all that seems to grate
against my inner wall
all that grates
is inattention
your face that smiled
but seemed to me a blur
as i jumped and thought to relocate
i know this
but i do ask
do not fail to witness for me
and what is perfect
in my gait and my intention
hold dear
1995
i feel
warmly toward words
each one so large
so round, cohesive, old
it's true
i have shoved their venerable spirits
into sentence after sentence
but i would at last pause
hear tell
how they prefer to walk out across a page
i sense their relief
sometimes i find a line
and Behold
they stand in ancient robes and vestments
quite at home again
and fresh as the lilies of the field
1995
there are those hills
from whence help does stream like water
but i know this
they cannot be touched
their source not kissed nor held
one looks out over a valley
and longs to walk forever
1995
a place
i see
a path
and breathing Presence
a fern grows
and black pine in the night
and something older
older still
and more familiar than memory
my head does tingle
with queasy awakening
how very old am i
how very old
my mind would enter
each time it pauses
and cannot but move on
i approach broad space
and fill with wide cold air
ere i am addressed
i do see and dare believe
the snow perhaps lies white in the dusk
and knows me
the line of trees along the hill
waits for me
1995
a heavy thought
and cold feet
the black tar of mediocrity
place one foot upon the stair
and pause to observe the effect
the realms of understanding
sucked with such force through invisible pores
and this remarkable assistance
you resolve to know the circumstances
the grace with which thoughts dance
what action in this mechanical brain
finds this intolerable?
release one brown leaf
to sail upon the winds
sail on and sail on
also through night
1995
I have seen and loved
Georgii Constantinovich
That poet-marshall
That wisest man of War
Who lived absolutely
In an absolute age
Who lived with an excellent hatchet
I saw the ecstasy and precision
With which each head was severed
And rolled off the platform.
One man is Bach
And his twin the marshall
Both sing wild songs
To an intolerably stupid mass.
Both sing and sing
I have loved Georgii Constantinovich
Who descended
As God's most excellent angel.
1995
published with a sculpture of Zhukov by Constantin
Simun
in the Russian Museum
i experience unavoidable man
who gathers my ribboned thoughts
and squeezes them to nought
with a deep voice
and measured and competent rhythm
i am after all whole
i can breathe in anything
and breathe out nothing
each moment i fall and fall
and strong as oak
remain unaltered
i experience unavoidable man
who gathers my ribboned thoughts
and squeezes them to nought
1995
published at Word Salad, fall 2000
three times
i hear each word
and twice
ere i respond
i find it resting on my lap
and close my hand about it
at first
i would replace it
its irritating smell
invades my habits
then would i
have it
here in this pocket
to use
for myself
only then would i
know
1995
emerge presence from calm intent
a soul in light
a thought
relieved of brooding destiny
who walks a merry path
though perhaps he know it not
oh that all my thoughts and neighbors
live their own life
that I may nudge none from without
but only know their generous undulations
from within
1995
granted fine and sandy resistance
a walk through intolerable fire
for God's sake
cool these blazing temples
i hear tell of peace at Your long
shore
You silently remove each object
all i have longed to see with mortal eye
to engage with mortal flesh
or hear with mortal ear
where is that mortal comrade
who knows my terror and my burning?
my loneliness?
also him have You withdrawn
or rendered powerless
then
where the Hand
that should now be visible
in the corners of my mind?
that i could feel it on my mortal shoulder
and solid in immortal space
You who carry me with such deftness
where the legions of angels
who should stand on either side?
where the singing
the easy anticipation?
I am Yours
this do I declare with all abandon
to you i cannot see
nor will I withdraw these my words
though i may falter
I do stand for my part
I stand and stand
the window over me
the thought surround me
i melt and enmesh
i accept both water and air
1995
published at Word Salad, fall 2000
softness
only is
and swift as the Hand of God
moved once over the face of the water
and left no ripple
so it lies even now
down to its thoughtless depth
some small and silent thing
found its way from under that great blanket
and wanders now in peace
its mind at those very depths
which it alone heard
and so you see
that time does come over us
at first like a shadow
1995
I have invited the Emporer
To join me in my meat and mead
He will come, I am sure of it
In a vast robe rich with ornament
And fringes of gold
His eyes exotically painted
Wide and slow he will come
Where does his wobbling path lead?
I smell death.
Father, I do kneel
and attention rise in me
as water fills the reed in spring
I see clear water
1995
bless the mighty individual
who can let no sweet nor slender voice without
nab his pale, autonomous ear
the narrow tube out of hell
lies within
and now before your very eyes
does he dissolve
into laughable simplicity
There
before the gasping Child
spreads the unutterable Self
I cannot say, brothers
my face is torn from me
and i am hot and boundless
in this impossible place
but do bless me
and kiss my wet palms
1995
where do you stand, my friend?
in what hot hand?
in what wheatfield?
in what troubled foreign land?
this same doubt consumes also me
again, again, again
the maple by my window
only grows green leaves in may
and sheds them in october
how strangely all that seemed so
solid
melts
and leaves only friendship
that gently defies dissolution
whence this remarkable sturdiness?
this grand expanse
that i so thoroughly overlooked?
1995
(to Kostya)
a trough
seemed of significance
lightning surrounds me
flashing and unsustained
and my mind grows narrow
the string approach the note
i live amid haze and significance
and hunger like a dog in hot mirage
for one clear image
and like a dog grow mad and singular
not you, not you, not you
not anything
i prepare an altar
and rely thereon
1995
You Who see beyond the city gates
i relinquish the throne
the father
the husband
the name
the face
how alone we walk the final miles
how we stand with the staff
how we await the dissolution
1995
in every basket that floats among
the reeds
there burns a fire
and a sober mountain of blue ice
buried and unaffected by its sea
i speak that strange and certain
vision
for which the man
unnoticing surrenders more than just the world
1995
follow joy
it will skip down a path
and wink like little brother Pan
now transparent in the shadow
now standing on the open road
it knows
and its fragrance grows more subtle
that vast and mighty universe of
axiom and assumption
that bastion of relative truth
will expire i assure you
like morning mist
and the Mystery does tread slow and
wide and real
available in the grains of every living stone
you know eternity must flash from transience
though perhaps you saw it only on one afternoon
in a face or sound
all you who humbly left the poetry
to us
i speak to you and you
and only to myself
pick up your pen
the time has come
not one among you
but is the Christ and prophet
with a wise and merciful Hand
1995
she she she she
comes walking
over wet stone
traces of ancient sound
run through her limb
i saw a legion at her back
who happily disbanded
sick with its non-existence
we know descent
through visions and seduction
on either side
how an unavoidable truth
came knocking at our brain
and blinded one eye
then overtook the face
and blinded the other
how she took us in
my God, how we dissolved
in sweet, sweet, sweet
and ancient union
she she she she
approaches
over wet stone
1995
approach the silence
and open wide your massive doors
ho ho
creak the hinges
i do nothing that won't dissolve
so let me look upon Your Face
i let go of things and things and
things
and cling to thoughts and gods
invented or grasped off an astral shelf
i know not
and now also the thought weighs heavy
on my head
so let me see Your Face
Your Face
Your Face
Your Face
My Lord
Your Face
1995
words, words
i conjure up your forest
in dense incantation
and dissolve into your night air
you throng of voices
you gathering of strange and sentient beings
you gentle sound
you silence
watch over me
yea, guide my speech and soul
through long and ancient darkness
1995
Young man
While the wind yet blows fresh in your face
Do kiss her soft lips
And rejoice in her wild and merry spirit
But you maid
Must drive the horses to the water
And bathe your naked self
In the cold, blue sea
Know your mind
And love your work
You'll not fail to touch his tender
heart
Nor shall you remain untouched
Bear his child if it please you
But live alone
Own your effort
Hear no critic
And give your heart and mind
To God
1995
published at Blue
Dawn
a thought as pure as fire
came whistling through
and settled on my doorstep
shivering
to be touched and brought within
one thinks
and knows otherwise,
"'Tis but a gentle thought
it neither eats nor drinks
let it take its place among the others
there are legions
that lie scattered in my house."
and so it rests and warms itself
and slowly melts like winter water
grainy to the smell
and melts the house
and melts habit, alliance, eye and ear
until i stand alone
spread by the winds
with but one wild thought
1995
Such a tenuous
Snip, Snip
place we arrange!
Snip
An English garden in the most voracious
Snip
of jungles.
Snip
And hourly
Snip, Snip
creep the weeds upon our lot
Snip
with stealthy fingers.
Always
Snip, Snip
Snip
vigilant not to rest thought
Snip
on
Snip, Snip
what we excise
or our gaze
on that wide blackness
beyond
1995
Holy You Be
I sit at my own right side
and endure
the rain rolls
I know its nature
i very nearly touch
and dissolve in the touch
kiss me
Lord
even You are powerless to deny
and after
do what You will
i sense already a swift dissolution
that leaves intact intangibles
a pleasant smell and crackle of leaves
a tender glance
i remember
many things
1995
a thousand immortal leaves
eavesdrop on my thoughts
can it be that i am known?
how strangely they weave
and consistent with my mood
1995
render yourself available to this
forest
full of tines and fern
I approach ancient as the wind
follow me in
there is a dawning within the soul
a critical first moment
a mild thought
an overture
the dawning
strikes deep
and waxes on its sturdy foot
you will feel His approach
over the wave
as sure as the grain does grow
1995