Wishing you all many blessings and a happy, healthy New Year
filled with poems to read, to write, and to share!
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;Petals on a wet, black bough.
The New DogInto the gravity of my life,the serious ceremoniesof polish and paperand pen, has comethis manic animalwhose innocent disruptionsmake nonsenseof my old simplicities—as if I needed himto prove again that afterall the careful planning,anything can happen.
The Snow ManOne must have a mind of winterTo regard the frost and the boughsOf the pine-trees crusted with snow;And have been cold a long timeTo behold the junipers shagged with ice,The spruces rough in the distant glitterOf the January sun; and not to thinkOf any misery in the sound of the wind,In the sound of a few leaves,Which is the sound of the landFull of the same windThat is blowing in the same bare placeFor the listener, who listens in the snow,And, nothing himself, beholdsNothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
XIIIThe rules break like a thermometer,quicksilver spills across the charted systems,we’re out in a country that has no languageno laws, we’re chasing the raven and the wrenthrough gorges unexplored since dawnwhatever we do together is pure inventionthe maps they gave us were out of dateby years … we’re driving through the desertwondering if the water will hold outthe hallucinations turn to simple villagesthe music on the radio comes clear—neither Rosenkavalier nor Götterdämmerungbut a woman’s voice singing old songswith new words, with a quiet bass, a fluteplucked and fingered by women outside the law.