In memoriam, Uncle Phil

I'll Fly Away.

Levertov

yes at times
one may speak of
the noble rider on the
sea of words

but what about those
who quietly track
through this florid bog
with its sentimental
mists and the pull of its ancient muck

find the iris
in its sodden mound
and bring it as a
gift
for us, for nothing
special just for the wonder
of the day and
for all the things
that make us
sing.

To the moon and her edge unraveled

along the highway are
these rows
of lonely
lights

yes that is well-
documented but
how the moon
will
surprise you

when you turn a corner
and there
it sits
in that
tree

and all her beams are
fine thread in
our fingers

not these words but what is
behind these
words

that thing
we are trying
to catch.

Our edges

1.
what does this mean:
to test yourself
against these ulysses
recherche war
and peace paradise
lost and on and on?

2.
sure, good
question.
this is the measure--
we must feel about the edges
to know the shape of our soul

(and now i am imagining myself
this painted mime, and you see, we open
this door. and here we are
inside ourselves, feeling around.
a wall there and there.
ok.
and now let me demonstrate also
how there is a ladder
here in us.
and so we climb and climb
and climb)

3.
and what
you asked
(eyebrow curving
in its priceless way)
is the aim of all this soul-knowing?

here
with all the ones
i love i love
i forget all about it
from your faces and hands
forgetting does
it does
come

we forget
our edges.

Odds and ends

Continuing my sort of quest to play like a scaled-down Mississippi John Hurt. The singing is hopeless, of course.

Over in the gloryland
Corinna, Corinna

Turning from the sunset, southbound I-35W and Johnson St. NE

the sun is drawn below the evening sky
by these pale steeds
as we are driving this last southward curve down
to the river

and then how it will sometimes strike you:
the terror of these reigns
going slack,
this wisping yoke of cloud
breaking into a thousand
waves cresting far away into the cold,
the buildings creeping closer
reaching up with their
topknots of lifeless smoke

but don't you feel how all the high-
way traffic in these narrow courses
pulls you back around
to the earth?
phaeton you fool
can you hear this honking?
what was it you were trying to prove up there
in that titanic sky?

The conversation

was confusing
to me being
combined with
the imaginary one
we had before.

you know--
that one where
I spoke
for both of us.

Dust

in a fit
of sentiment i said
how all
all of this will turn
to dust, dust, dust

but as i dust
with this rag along
the edges of this picture
frame and catch your eyes
looking out from other
days

i do not say, ah,
this dust is my own
turning
to dust

thick as motes rising upon these sun-
beam stairs--
choo--i sneeze as i
cross through

For Lucille Clifton

I have heard
poems that made me think
of poetry as being taken up
strange ways, blindfolded
to a secret window in the
attic where the sullen words say
look out through here
on this stolen world

I hear you, Lucille,
and instead I see your face
with its mouth and its
tongue
and there behind the tongue
your soul moves unashamed

and then how I was
overcome
by this:
I recognized this soul

is my own soul
made beautiful.

I hear your body be
gone now.
God
rest you.
God rest you.

How you are beautiful to me

1.
First let me explain
what I mean
by beauty
here's the theory:
an expression
of that which is
by its subject unpercieved
but percieved therefore
with surprise by those who will
have the eyes

2.
I know you, thinking
this is all about these words
but look, I will make this test
as well:

shall I start at the beginning
with the first moment I became
aware of you, that is, you yourself
not exactly
as you are, admittedly, but enough like
it to make me stop, lie awake
slowly realize that you would live
somewhere in me, whatever I would say,
that is, to begin, when I
like one partly healed
blind
from birth first with awe beheld
some shapes I often
mistook?

but that is nothing to this:
consider when we joined
in mystery our two forms
and so, from that imaginary height
you in your simple way uncovered
how to arise quotidien into
the rhythm of the day
could grow into a strength sustained,
by strength unexpected, an unexpected
strength for the trials of the day
and this goes on
grows
like flower, grass, thicket
unconcerned by terrain's
rise or fall

3.
when first from yourself
in that pale hospital room
I saw creation realized, held in my hands
what would color new days
like sunshine surprising thrust
through clouds
and nature unaware showing suddenly
her fuller form in intricate
and lovely lines
you were weary yet
fresh as a spring day

even my mind
like a chunk of earth
can understand
this beauty
is made for
growing.

Be not afraid

My child
look I will leave your shade
open this evening, even as sun-
down and parted cloud
leave discovered
the whole immensity of the night

be not afraid
of these empty spaces
for without them how would we know
all the length
that love
can go?

and so too
close your own eyes
and in this darkness
dream and be
renewed.

February Fragmentary

even the innocent
houses
with eaves all ice-fanged
lowery leer and gables
in white-capped glister
glower malicious

In answer

Prepared to curse the clammy
snow I make straight
my back, lean my arms
across the shovel
handle

flushed face
coolly wind-kissed
behold
all heaven deigning
to be clothed clothes
the earth, yes, and
wetly even my own skin

listen
this breath
is not a speaking, no,
yet how in these senseless
moments
all will seem right

That noble thing?

The neon
lights in their orange and almost green
almost laid lovely
low in evening brush of snow
suspended
hovering around warm street-
light nebula

oh world so large and brawling
made small now and soft
oh world, yet what secrets you still will hold
like the fire of these green
or orange eyes
slanting and blowing cold comet tails
as if in some unknown
great cosmic wind
and

the silence
silence of the growing night
unbroken as each flake alights

for once
just speak
to me

God gave Noah the rainbow sign

God gave Noah the Rainbow Sign

fin ad infinitum

the theater is still dark
the screen black, but as though
cut through the night the end
in white is clearly
spelled out

still, let's sit here
together a while, thinking of how
the actor shouted some
senseless line:
i still love you
fiercely as the night
chases the sun

or the actress:
how in the dark you can almost
taste
loneliness

that part really
got to me

the audience gone let us two sit
one moment more, somehow
it seems right that this closing song
keeps going on and on