Until Then --

words for the Grecian urn, the

shallow

remonstrance of a long night; these, the

delicate

underpinnings of the unsaid, will

they gather

until they glow, struck down

as

so many statutes undescribed? Can

you hold

her there in the darkness, this

girl

with sudden aspirations and acute

longings, She who

will remit

and succumb? -- (Have

we

begun to desist, to

stand

firm before the blows that knock

us down

in alleys and side streets, these

ghosts

unheard of in the natural world

who

come to us

fired by imagination and despair

lurching toward

our Embrace

with glowing Eyes and

intense

orchestrations?) -- Is

there

a World for you

to describe in

your circular

semblance of an idea, is

there

glory

for the victors and pain

for the vanquished? -- have

you seen her

there with bleeding palms,

the iron

stigmata of inchoate

union?

*

Undelivered –

blistering past Notions of shame and deliverance

we fade into Ourselves, holy-

holding doubt as foreclosure -- Where

must we be

in order to Understand logic? -- a shy

girl standing against the wall

says "No,

I was not aware of that" -- We

bridle

at this – Our spirits coalescing here inside

the Light; our Steps

are measured, here, as

we count down the days to our Circumspection --

awareness non-compliant

and destitute – Is it

here

we find Ourselves much vaunted

and little by little

overcoming our Inertia?

*

Again --

There, in the dark, between

the wrought iron fences

and the branching trees, under

a hard sky, I wept

for joy, for

the spent

occasion of another day, for

the rolling back of

shame, for the

instance

of arrival, here,

beneath the moon, here

the palm tree

blooms and the algae

explodes, in

a land beyond

horizons, in

a fast shake, a

sudden suture, a glance

unknowing

and aware, here I find my

love

again . . .

*

Until --

these, the dark, uninhabited waters come

flowing through

the wood with

a wind skirmishing

over foam, vortices

swirling

in shadowed spaces a night

unformed

and grieving

for lost opportunities --

*

any other sister

She wouldn’t have it any other way, this

Woman who stood up to bombs and blows

Before she realized she was not the victim

Of this particular cosmic joke

But rather the hijacked heroine of

Somebody else’s poetry --- Why

Do you laugh, Titus, she

Murmured

In his ear, now with the leaves

Shaking in the autumn wind, is

There anything

Left to do but laugh, or cry, she said,

I’ve mustered up the courage

To stand still until I fall, tracing my thoughts

Past naked bodies into purple heavens, these

Girls, they

Dance an Arabesque, they

Swallow our swords and live

To tell – We

Are the words that go round and round,

Quiet now with hungry fathers

And blackhaired infants – our mounting of the

Steps is monumental

Given our stretched and broken limbs – We

Climb to meet you there,

Under the stair, in a perfect hideaway,

Where only Saints can find us.

aqua --

turnstiles are aching Visions blistered with Light

the listless mute undying Children beg

for More -- at our Core

insight inveighed or barren, these sticks

prune-Out drive inherit you

obtain No it is Nothing! she cries, flagellant's

Woes on the bathroom Floor -- Keen

Sepulcher rousted,

enjambed

in Sheltered-Substance, these vicious untuned Weights

un --

weildy Now --

a liquid Sacrifice from

Courage --

*