Poetry

  • Poland of Death (III)

    The dead are beyond caring. But Beatrice Is not beyond caring. She is not dead. She says to Death, “You are nothing to me.” She writes it down, “I won't stay.” “I'm not old.” “This necropolis is a disgrace.” “I don't know These people. And (besides) the country is cold.” Poland of Death! Our mother…

  • Keeping Watch

    —So the soul had known it all along, the soul knew when it was taken: first it filled with light and then it went sideways, through boxes of radiance; you wanted her to look your way but she couldn't; for the bride can't just stop being the bride once the forward exit has begun, going…

  • The Bond

    Put corn on the stove, don't burn the chops, sign all letters “love,” keep spotless above, clean up what drops. Put all knives away, you never know. Car in the driveway, wait in the doorway, your prayer here below unanswered again: he has not died. This man of men throws good food in the sink,…

  • from Mandala: In the Beginning

    These poems and translations are part of a collaboration with the painter/monotypist Galen Garwood, with whom I collaborated on the book Passport (Broken Moon Press, 1989). Neither the poems nor the abstract images will function as “illustration,” but will interlock, exploring the fundamental wisdom-teaching rooted in the ideas of the great Northwest painter Morris Graves,…

  • Divine Laughter

    She used to talk about divine laughter. I took this one of two ways. That the soul would be laughed at even in heaven, not kept out of the silver net exactly but as when the women at a school meeting laugh— at, not with—when they don't know how to enter your condition. But the…

  • Answers

    Yes What awful thing will I take on because you've asked? I can't say no. Too hard to ask? It's only one more awful thing that I'll take on and do it all until it's gone, except the thing will never go. What awful thing will I take on because you've asked? I can't say…