Article

Marichi

An hour before sunrise, The moon low in the East, Soon it will pass the sun. The Morning Star hangs like a Lamp, beside the crescent, Above the greying horizon. The air warm, perfumed, An unseasonably warm, Rainy Autumn, nevertheless The leaves turn color, contour By contour down the mountains. I watch the wavering, Coiling…

Less of the Same

Spring is still the groundswell of your body heaving up from its wildly patient sleep. I can’t explain that, but know why we imagine for the dead a life without desire—so they will not want ours. Palimpset of smoke, you’re blown past recognition into mere expectancy, the place a rock was, a pure attitude of…

Song

Perched on each others tongues To fly Where now are the angels In what pursuit plunged vaporously Who late will sniff your crotch for eternity The wind is rising The diamond that divides the faces of a wound The surface of our planet should be waxed To make the wind go faster Than the windmills…

A Poem to Go Before Eight Lines by Jalal-ud-din-Rumi

Leaving here, I slip out the gates of the palace garden      as autumn stuns the trees with remembrance                        and makes them come around again                                          like a memory of dervish flutes. In my mind I hear the word perfect.                  My feet touch down into cool…

Constantly

I woke, for an instant, not knowing you. Before touch, before the thought of touch. In the level darkness I could locate nothing of you, no manacle of outline, and I thought how, each morning, the body wakes to recognize its shape, again the tender landscape given, the strangeness of the right hand orbiting the…

For Anne

On each shoulder                              I bear a jar      with each its angel                  in                        formaldehyde I wish to preserve my loves                                    You say No            let them go fly way                                    Away and when                  they come back…

An Encounter On Exmoor

Watch out for the lady riding sidesaddle! On foot in the foreign gorse, we see the woman’s private ride thicken her with territory; her figure is a jowl of land rising against the sky. If she comes near, we dread she’ll ignore us. She canters from the horizon pasted to a rocking horse, eyes hidden…

A Slip Up

There was such a strain on the silence between them after he'd eaten that it had to be broken. `Maybe we should never have given up the farm and come here. Even though we had no one to pass it on to,' Michael said, his head of coarse white hair leaning away from his wife…

from Returning to Earth

“What forgotten reverie, what initiation it may be, separated wisdom from the monastery and, creating Merlin, joined it to passion?” Yeats, A Vision She pulls the sheet of this dance across me then runs, staking the corners far out at sea. *     *      * O I’m lucky got a car that starts almost everyday tho I…