IF A NOVEL
Is a mirror walking down a road
then a poem is a mirrored room
convex on the ceiling
concave on the floor
IF A NOVEL
Is a mirror walking down a road
then a poem is a mirrored room
convex on the ceiling
concave on the floor
READY
Trying to get my poetry ready
for when the world is ready
for poetry
GRACELETS
Because Gloria needed a new word
for those brief magic shining moments
A word for when the fox was looking over
her shoulder as she sketched in the woods
A word for when the pure white horse
trailing black reins came thundering
past her and a friend on a snow white day
For the sunsets that cover the whole sky
double rainbows when grandmothers die
and a circular rainbow that held you and I
Sheet lightning eating its tail in a circle
Northern lights that start in a point over
your head and shower around you
For the magic of weaving our gracelets when
we meet to remind us of magic in each of
our lives and each other
Because of all this, it is now your word too
Thank you Gloria
INDIAN RIVER, ONTARIO 2004
Above waterfall
In circle of highest pine
green showers down
By the waterfall
body rests in hammock
cells rush to the sea
Below waterfall
power beyond soap and rub
washes off city
Lying by the bank
trees holding blue hammock
lift it to the sky
Indian River
Great Blue Heron stands
wise Tibetan monk
TEMPLE MOUNT
Seven Christian sects
can fight for a hundred years
on who has the right to wash a window
Seeming so in love with the questions
that any answer is the death of the beloved
JERUSALEM STONE
Church, house, grave, wall
no give at all
JERUSALEM
Three days now on the Mount of Olives
watching the old city postcard change
from two to three dimensions
IN PREPARATION FOR ISRAEL
In preparation for Israel
I have the poems of Yehuda Amichai
If I read them I may need fewer maps
If I read them well I may need no maps
If I read them very well I may not need to go
THE MOST LOVELY HELEN
Poets are not saints
but by the grace of God and nature
and the law of magnets that attract them
If you believe in heaven she will go
If you believe that we come back
next time she may be the poet
blessed with one like her
Beloved wife of master poet Herman Nelson who in his words “took one last gulp of time and sank into eternity” in 2003
LANTANA MANNA
(for Patricia Fiske at 77)
Trees and poets
grow from the inside out
The latest lines and rings
always
the greenest and most beautiful