madpoet

You do not have to be good.
You do not have yo walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to you imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

I held it up, solid in my hands,
flesh of the tree, dense as rock,
gleaming like crimson secrets.

It smelled like earth spice.
It smelled like dusky water.
It smelled like the ghost of roses.

Of course I knew it was the apple
of forgetfulness.  But oh, sister,
how much I needed to forget:

the assaults, the betrayals,
the abandonments.  I did not bite
into that fruit in ignorance.

This is exactly what I wanted:
stillness, glassy beauty, peace.
This is exactly what I wanted.

like a butterfly

caught in the wind, I struggle-

toward you, then away.

your hand on my wrist lays me bare

and I dangle, caught-

like my breath-

between my heart and your eyes.

palm-springs.doc

persephone-2.doc

persephone.doc

Caught between longing

And fear, my heart leaps skyward.

My thoughts are of you.

desire.doc

descent-into-chicago-ohare.doc