Seeing North Light

Saturday, January 3, 2015

A Library Mouse

for Eileen Myles

an earnest mouse emerges

from a library wall

quickly four footed

funny to the eye

a mouse begging a blunt hand

for smaller morsels

bewhiskered critics

mice consume literature

seldom understood

Monday, December 22, 2014

Song of the Children’s Feet

Trudge – said left foot to its partner Boot

trudge trudge – Boot replied

slippery slide down the slope they cried

tobogganing trundle up to the top of the hill

WHEE they go back down again

trudge – said right foot

trudge trudge – said left

glittery glide down the slope they cried

icy icy nice and icy trundle and trudge

Saturday, December 6, 2014

Aphrodite and Donnelly

Aphrodite came softly through the rose petals of a wedding

& finding the far gate found Donnelly sitting in the rain

her manner was veiled

in her eyes an expression of eyelashes

damp with concern

she came lightly through the wet fields

her silk scarf moistened by rain

only a soft rustle of leaves

faint imprints in the meadow

evidence of her passing

a piano accompaniment a conspiracy of violins

coming feminine through the fields

lighter than rose petals

lighter than rime

(she was wearing a cream raincoat

with brown buttons on it

belted tightly at the waist

her hair deep black

a royal blue scarf…)

Aphrodite held his tongue

Donnelly wondered Woody Allen style

whether to skip the dialogue

he came straight to the point

emboldened by her direct gaze

“Let’s not”

he tried to say

but she forbade him

Sunday, November 30, 2014

Lines For Beckett

13 April 1906 – 22 December 1989

He who propels life forward to death

from April to December

by day by night

for many cycles of spring

musing

to blind tides

deaf skies

a kind man

with unwithered love

of all mankind

he who propels

a woman

in a wheelchair towards us

she who propels destiny

We hide from the knowledge in their eyes

we want life to go on forever

sun always shining

if it rains

we want a rainbow

Sunday, November 2, 2014

Song of the Palace*

by Po-Chu-Yi

Heartbroken

hankies drenched with tears

exhausted with grief

they still cannot sleep

at the loneliest time of night

when snatches of song gust through the Palace

music throbs

walls tremble

she who is not even old

who has lost the King’s love

weeps until dawn

by damp clothes spread out to dry

by long dresses maids have laid to one side

ENVOI**

diverting attention
ripened fruit falls
caught by a mosaic floor

perfectly ripe
young women preen
she not even old wipes tiles clean

filled with remorse

a widow who sent her husband to war

to seek fame

*translated by David Sen

an early version published in Chapman

Vol III, No.4 “Dick Russell” issue

1975; Editors: Walter Perrie, Joy Hendry, R. R. Calder