Who is born
In the next room
So loud to my own
That I can hear the womb
Opening and the dark run
Over the ghost and the dropped son
Behind the wall thin as a wren’s bone?
In the birth bloody room unknown
To the burn and turn of time
And the heart print of man
Bows no baptism
But dark alone
Blessing on
The wild
Child.
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Then was my neophyte,
Under the bell of rocks,Ducked in the twelve, disciple seasThe winder of the water-clocksCalls a green day and night.My sea hermaphrodite,Snail of man in His ship of firesThat burn the bitten decks,Knew all His horrible desiresThe climber of the water sexCalls the green rock of light.Who in these labyrinths,This tidethread and the lane of scales,Twine…
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.
It was on the afternoon of the Christmas Eve, and I was in Mrs. Prothero’s garden, waiting for cats, with her son Jim. It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas. December, in my memory, is white as Lapland, though there were no reindeers. But there were cats. Patient, cold and callous, our hands…
The sky is torn across
Who moved for three years in tuneDown the long walks of their vows.Now their love lies a lossAnd Love and his patients roar on a chain;From every tune or craterCarrying cloud, Death strikes their house.Too late in the wrong rainThey come together whom their love parted:The windows pour into their heartAnd the doors burn in…
If I were tickled by the rub of love,
Broke through her straws, breaking my bandaged string,If the red tickle as the cattle calveStill set to scratch a laughter from my lung,I would not fear the apple nor the floodNor the bad blood of spring.Shall it be male or female? say the cells,And drop the plum like fire from the flesh.If I were tickled…
When all my five and country senses see,
How, through the halfmoon’s vegetable eye,Husk of young stars and handfull zodiac,Love in the frost is pared and wintered by,The whispering ears will watch love drummed awayDown breeze and shell to a discordant beach,And, lashed to syllables, the lynx tongue cryThat her fond wounds are mended bitterly.My nostrils see her breath burn like a bush.My…
Before I knocked and flesh let enter,
I who was as shapeless as the waterThat shaped the Jordan near my homeWas brother to Mnetha’s daughterAnd sister to the fathering worm.I who was deaf to spring and summer,Who knew not sun nor moon by name,Felt thud beneath my flesh’s armour,As yet was in a molten formThe leaden stars, the rainy hammerSwung by my…
Living,
Clarifies a little
Study and investigating,
A little more,
But Life, Us,
The Universe
Remain a Mystery,
Forevermore!
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Secret Loves,
In pain,The hidden fear,That does appear,Each time they cross,Each time They’re near,Lover’s forbidden lane.Forbidden Loves,So far and yet so near,So painfully discreet,Only their souls can ever meet,Together they will never be,Their loves,Like in a fantasy,Demanding to be free,Will live,But in their lonely minds,Forever, tragically!
To make the inanimate, animate
Is the miracle of the great artistBy always implanting, Feeling.
I am not afraid to say the Truth,
I am not afraid to clarify,All the things that move,The Devil’s Eye.
Fans are dangerous things,
Which means ‘extremes’And we all know,What That brings!
Invisible, spiritual veins
Like the bloodThat keepsBody and Mind alive,Poetry,You run thru me.
Incredible!
And commotions,That PoetryCan provoke,Making All,Come aliveIn a never ending,Festival of Hope!