Narragansett

The complete sentence narrates a satisfying process.
It closes and opens like a clam.
I take a knife to the sentence and start my evening at the raw bar.
It is hard work, and the sentences would prefer to be in the ocean.
I would rather be a patron of this establishment.
Someone over my shoulder
Would rather know I am going to continue to put up with his stuff.
It is not a wide receiver, his stuff. It is his development,
Which is gradual. It involves testing me. Sometimes
These tests take the form of imperatives. Drive onto the boat!
The boat would rather be en route to Maine.
It is an ambitious ferry. My knife wishes to whittle patterns
Into the enormous picnic table. Art does not narrate.




                                                 Jordan Davis

 

simply entitled : IF I LEFT YOU

here's a love poem

if I left you
would you cast your days into shades of grey and black
if I left you
would you wonder if I ever thought of coming back
would you curse my name and curse the day I was born
curse the day that I arrived
and the promises I'd sworn
if I left you


if you left me
I think I know just exactly what I'd do
if you left me
I'd work out a hundred and ninety shades of blue
I'd jump into a bottle and swim till I died
I'd write the wretched  epitath
  that simply says  " I tried "
if you left me


if I left you
 would don the crown of anger upon your heart
if I left you
would you weave the yarns of vengeance into your art
would you deride the life of virtue with all of your friends
would you wear the wound of sorrow
the wound that never mends
if I left you

if you left me
I'd take to staring down the depths of dark
if you left me
no tellin' on what foolish journeys I might embark
my heart would surely falter I'd lose my voice
I'd choose the way of  emptiness
if I thought I had a choice
if  you left me




               a jh special
















.

cringing perception

Werewolf in selvage I saw
         In day's dawn changing his shape
      Amid leaves he lay
            and in his face, sleeping, such pain
                        I fled agape


                           




                  Ezra Pound transl.  of a poem
                                         
                                            by
 
                                         Jaime de Angulo
















....

faith by despair

Perfection, Perfection                              

                                 by

                     Kilian McDonnell OSB

("I will walk the way of perfection." Psalm 101:2) 




 I have had it with perfection.
I have packed my bags,
I am out of here.
Gone.

As certain as rain
will make you wet,
perfection will do you
in.

It droppeth not as dew
upon the summer grass
to give liberty and green
joy.

Perfection straineth out
the quality of mercy,
withers rapture at its
birth.

Before the battle is half begun,
cold probity thinks
it can't be won, concedes the
war.

I've handed in my notice,
given back my keys,
signed my severance check, I
quit.

Hints I could have taken:
Even the perfect chiseled form of
Michelangelo's radiant David
squints,

the Venus de Milo
has no arms,
the Liberty Bell is
cracked.














                              a brother's song














...

he were a cipher of indigenous minds he were

3 fragment poems by Jaime de Angulo                                                     












fishes in the sky translucent i left my home below and lost my

               way pursuing that bird of many colors

                              fishes in the sky

                                translucent

                     in the sky my home below

           fishes lost my home pursuing many colors

  translucent in the sky of many colors below my home

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

wildcat

you who walk the trail in broad daylight

contemptuous and haughty

 

puma

you who unseen follow people on the trail

curious and shy

 

which of you

last night

uttered that long cry

so full of longing

 

                     (berkeley 27 feb '50)

 

 

 

 

Cat by the fire, why do you purr ?
Fire in the hearth, why do you burn ?
Fire in my heart, will you never learn
to turn to ashes.

.....

ausculta revisited

Three Pieces

 ~ Rosmarie Waldrop


ANY SINGLE THING

Is so complicated we can talk about it only by a little shove with the knee. The cry of the gulls. The line between water and grammar. Horizon and interpretation. Between two blues. Field of error. My gestures not my own. Desire not a color. And the sound of the sea. Listen.

OFFERS OF SKY

Even a slight curvature in the path of the light will produce dim shapes of possibles. Night minus tears. Or where. The shared adventure. Or amaranth, love-lies-ableeding. Who sings this song? Who talks desire? And she for use as long as. High in the air. Or clouds.

THE EQUATION MUST BE BEAUTIFUL

Allow the first look its density. Before what words make of it. Or often, gusts of wind. Light compact in comparison. With what? Inert reason? But I admit that everything is interrelated. On the model of language. The lovers on the park bench, the bakery, the shadows playing on the wall. Breath quenched in multiple directions.







.