from "Aestivare"
was is the earth-shone moon?
that shook my hammock
that dawn before the birds
began to sings as if
telling me to remember
to look up and see
the white sphere of Venus
at its zenith
in the light of day
in the blackest waters
of the depth-less quarry
I lost my lover
to the Bull Frog King
what bird was it
that sent me wandering
this orange evening?
to the edges of the hollow forest
echoing with day-fade soundings,
where spears of yellow mullein flowers
bloom in spirals by the road,
where yellow-jackets hover
by the ground, their wings displacing dust,
where I am sent chasing songs as images
that fade as dreams do
when touched with sunlight
with the parting of,
at dawn, my
heliotropic
eyes.
o field of night
o night of sound
come into this room
o broad darkness
lay down across me
o field o sound
of air o dome
of night
o sky of quiet light
o field of air
as room of night
o feather by my head
that holds the sun
move that night
may come may lay
its sound as field
upon my head
ah,
the night
is
a
room
of
dark
light
back now--
my mothers favorite moon
low and thin
facing away
here again from swinging 'cross the sun
[emerged in twilight
as white piercing red dusk,
and Saturn
--a shimmer beside]
the summer triangle
rising east and up,
the acute angle points
to the galactic center, behind Sagittarius
those Great Birds
[Eagle and Swan]
spring forth from early dark
and dance / their following
the Lyre of Orpheus
alights the sky
[its moving over; the song of summer]
from "The Ego Poems"
I, as sunlight
sometimes will,
aim for the leafs inheritance
I, with wounded foot, advance
I limp towards a dawn unwoken for
late,
on dark avenues
I watch gods walk by
The Trembling Way
I sat and rode
the winds pattern
on a feather
in golden flame
We lose our gifts as we claim their giving