Prologue.

For there is the

Dream of a book.

For, as paintings must

In brief moments, transform.

So I imagine it possible

That thus a sort of book

Might gradually

Take

Shape;

Not, in fact,

Unlike a painting…

Lo!  Lo! Verse,

Verse!

Lord,  Blessed name,

Verse.

 PART ONE.  Beginnings….

What we need is,

Some eggs, what else?

Etc.  Going to the grocery—

Some daisies here in

A window, blue tablecloth,

On a stormy day.

Windshield Wipers

Casting away daisies,

White daisies with

Yellow centers, fall

Ing

Into the street.

Photographs

Warm and dry.

A question;

Is that why

Things are the

Way thay are

Because of their

Natures?

Children and

roses…secrets and stones.

II.  Oh ancient person of my

 Heart,

Oh Father, Lord, maker

Of the heavens and the

Waters and the earth, of

Man and spider, all creatures

Alike, Oh God Sufficient,

Mighty are thy works in

These city gates.

Mighty is this heart mine

Which loveth thee and

All earthly things—I don’t know

Why—but mighty Father,

That thou shouldst bend

To salvage even the shards

 Of a broken web, the kisses

of a little flower, tie up

the remnants of a dream!

All dreams, all, all dreams, alike and all,

For thou art greater than

This world—the world is

 so big, the world is so

 small, it is all and the only

hope in a hellish universe—

Oh Father, look thee down on

 a gentle earth!

For all is good on this earth

And all is holy on this earth

And all is reborn on this earth

For Mother earth is fertile;

--look ye down, father,

On the little littlest things,

The sluggard at his drink,

The milner at his mill,

Everything :ord, I ask

Look after them all living

And nonliving and give

Us the fire Prometheus

Brought, of love.

In contrary things contrary

Liest—here livest I, and what I

Have wrough

Here livest I

And me a saint.

July 27^th 2011

I.

Tick tock goes the clock

May nest is feathered with down;

--and yet I wear garlands

For my hair, eyes, ears,

Ankles, Long rich hair

To my breasts—

Found my image passing fair,

You see.

II.

My Love Lays Sleeping

Today we read the paper

In the gym room because the

Pool was closed—

Then I went back to

The apartment, gathered

Some herbs, found an old

Recipe for potato salad,

Boiled a pot of potatoes, salted,

And while they boiled, had

Just time enough to

Make my suger-lemon

Cookies… then chopped

-diced- the potatoes,

Now soft; and made the

Rich meal for my love.

III.

Now it is predawn.

The alarm on Chris’s walkie

Talkie is going off and

The coffee pot is chuffing

Steam, because at 3am

-very soon- he must rise to

Do the night shift and a day

 Shift.  He is a para

medic.  I love him most

dearly,my husband, my soul,

my life—I,

his fretting, careless

wife

Let us be together for

All of life.
And lay me down to sleep…

But now, coffee and cookies

And poetry at the writing desk…

Then music.

“Rainy Sunday after church, early spring”

Let the rain fall

And the sun rise

And let the little birds

Cling to the dogwood branches

Let the linens dry on the line

And the sermon on Sunday mornm

And buy me plums at market

And I will make a soup.

Let the curtains waver in the breeze,

And all little flowers be demure,

And let the woods all about us breathe

In and out with spider webs

Glistening, and child ferms

emerging from a damp oak

leaves in the dews of morning.

Let me wear my silk dress before

I grow old this morning, pink

As the pale dawn—

And you can pick me flowers

And kiss me on the lawn

Before morning ends.

Then we can go down to

Breakfast at Willolyn,

And all the day lay in a hammock

On the grass,

And let the children wreathe us

With garlands of flowers,--

And listen to the peeper frogs calling in the rainy woods

And after a walk to the river,

We’ll have a ham and butter

Beans;

And make love in satin there,

Or cotton at home.

Complete my flesh into your

Flesh

And a rainy spring wash

Away our wounds….

“My Baptism”

Come down to the river, hey!

Come ye down, down, down,

Come ye down to the river.

In the morning Sunday, hey!

Jon Baptist gon wash all

Them sins clean out of ya,

Pastor gon wash you in the river,

Be sure and wear a white gown,

Not too sheer, cause

Everybody’s gon be there, smiling,

At the river. 

Singing Jesus walks with me

 every day, hey!

Gon wake up Sunday morn,

Go on to de waterbank,

Gon be a new man or  woman

Or little boy or girl.

In jesus’ name, father, baptize

Me so I can know I am

Most certain gon be there

When I go on to heaven…

Father

I know you’se awful tired—

I’m awful tired too, yes, Lord—

I’m a-gonna lay me in the bed

Another three years maybe

For’s the rest of my life.

We’re tired, Lord.

I’ll put a blanket over you

And make you some hot tea

And read the bible aloud

Each day.

I’m never lonely cause you’s

always keeping me your sweet

gentle company that warms

 my heart—God, don’t ever

leave me,

or I’ll be lonesome

like the moon—

theodores sleepin,

it’s the middle of the night

An me an Father are

All tired out

Something else tired—from all

That work we did all our

 Lives

An the sickness, the medicine

--Lord, father, life is so

Beautiful

When ain’t no work to be done!

Love, Your daughter.

I

I swear; Jesus walks by my

Door a whistlin and a singin

When I am sore afraid of the

Devil

And I know Jesus is our Savior, I love him very much. 

I don’t know what’s to come, but I’m 25, and yonder comes

Jesus singin in the doves

And the blackberries

And the rain,,,

With a twinkle in his eye.

Praise jesus, ha-le-lu-jah!//

II.

These days, I don’t see no

Reason any man ought to

Carry a sword—

Once when I was young

I thought, “If only Jesus had

Carried a sword!”

---then In know that’s foolish

Ness, cause our savior

Conquered the devil

Without a sword, without anything.

 Man was the sin.

No, Jesus’s miracle was that he never did carry any sword…

I’ll never carry a sword either! 

Noone should.  It is the devil.//

I

Sit there for a while,

Try and remember how to smile//

A light heart makes a happy home//

The world is evil now;

The only Good are “crazy”//

Cast off the dollar signs and

All the evils of this

Evil world,  Go back to your

Soulmate if you love him, don’t let a good love die take your soulmate and together forge a paradise from pure

Wilderness!//

God---

You’re old and sad and

Tired and

---if it please you Lord,

May I take care of

You

In the Temple of the Eastern Moon-Garden//

Thank You

For this blessed day//

Amen.

II. There is no sadness now.

Loneliness is caught its paws

In a ball of yarn in the corner.

There’s nothing to write about

There’s everything to write about.

Spring, and School, and money coming, and a pot

Roast and rice in the oven,

And Potpourri on the table

---Poetry is a kind of sadness

I am alone yet I am not

Lonely.//

Two Bees

I go to see you

Dragonflies over the river

Cherub wings

A lonely fawn

Deer treading in the snow

Notebook

Lonely years are over

Tired Joy

One wish

To be with child

No other

I wait for you

Kittycat wants clover

Feed is on the pines

Windchime startles

Rustling leaves are new—

Ly born outside.

My love,

How many years

Before you give me a child!//

IV.

To Theodore Chris Land, my Husband:

I wait for thee

In rooms of crimson, rooms of

Salamander-gold.  I wait

At the tide’s flush, cheeks

Rush, tough me, ill take

You home…

I wait for you, and

I’ll wait for you

Sun-slides carelessly over our porch,

Into the starlight

And the moonlight

The firelight

Half-light and midnight-

Oil light,

Into the city lights

-bedazzled, a little by the glamour of waiting for you

I wait, see, here-

Or there—and then,

I’ll wait by your side

Till first dawn breaks

Till sleep takes thee

Till I fade away forever,

The lonesome and wearisome.

I’ll wait for you, Theodore,

In little cakes that we eat

With our fingers and tea

Faraway—the surf of the sea and I’ll wait

When youre crying and I’ll wait

When the mockingbird

Calls

To the thrush

And broods upon the stillness of

The dawn---

I’ll wait for you,

When you’re tired—when

The blue-black painkillers ease the body;

When

The beehive kindles, ebbs and dies away

In embers enduring

I’ll wait, tenderly weaving a song of silence and

Melody, control and freedom,

Isolate and solitary,

Loneliness and alone

Till the seas dry up- ill wait.

//…Dreams are tenuous things

They are the butterflies

Of the soul.

Dreams touch, are marred, the sould winces.

I’ll tell you a secret that nobody knows---

Even the windpole and

Winterberry are given all away, all, all away—so

Don’t ry anymore, if bees build baskets and eggs

Make honey

If we should come to

The brink of our tenuous

Survival, if the sun

Go out, or the pit-pat of the

Little rain, murmuring a little sadly—

Should we stand there

At the end, the very

Ebb—the brink

Of our lives, and should

We commit the atrocities which only we forbear—

Should I feel to jump there—

I’ll look up at you, ill see the hidden smile

In your eyes,

It will buouy me up to safety.

Should we stand, ever,

At the brink of our lives—

--know, dear, I’d rather be

Standing there with you than

In heaven with anyone else. 

To Theodore Land, My husband, Love, Caroline//

HAVE FAITH in hard times—Pray//

//I begged the Bible bring me pardon

Or peace from my heartbroken strife;

And, murmuring a little by the

Fire,

Resolved this wisdom for my life

Behold He will not leave me,

But loves me and, no matter what may come,

Faith in the Lord and prayer

Are all that I can do;

And all, perhaps,

That could be done.

//Don’t Skip

-heart-skip-

Don’t try

Don’t be

Don’t be still

These are the

Words of the

Way that I feel//

//stop moving to the clouds

Because I cried you a river

Dug me a bed to lay me

Down

Under the sky

And on the moon//

Memories lost me

I lost me

Whatever

Nobody cares

The cars

Are all parked

In

A

Row

Like

Ducks

Waiting for their mother,

“There isn’t anything to be done”---

“There isn’t anything to be done”---

Lose me

Hurricane

Got lonely

I died once- no,

Not really—

Losing my mind

Sick and tired

Of being here

Trying to not-breathe

I don’t know

Why should I? 

Marry me //

I don’t care any more

I don’t care

No more

Flying away

Lost

Lose me

Im so tired.

Jesus that was quick

Movin so slow

Can we

Take a break

Oops

Did I try

Die

Lie

Too hard?//

Married a star

It kept me warm

Lost myself in the tv

What an apartment

Complex

Called my ex

He didn’t

Exist

Called round and round

If

There is

No reason

For expressing you heart-

But to see yourself there,

Cause nobody gonna

Read this

Ain’t nobody love

 Me

Why, I’m lost!//

Lonely boys; kids, you know,

Sittin on a train track

At dawn

Wondering

When

Where

Is the sky falling

Then it starts to snow

Then they get cold

One’s wearing a leather jacket

Or whatever

Anyways.

Starts to snow

They’se scared

Breathe me in

I breathe you in

Cross a train trestle

Built over a lake

Now the years go by

An its me here

Where was everybody

Going?

Why isn’t there anybody

Here?

Who gives a damn?

Octopus Garden

Don’t lose me

Yeah whatever

Who gives a damn

I know, it’s like—what’s

The point

Well

Honey

I guess we’ll

Have to find

A way

That they haven’t

Figured out yet

Think three steps

Ahead of rational

That’s how you make it

Through the night

Make it six

Keep going and youre

Bound to win the lottery----

Written November 2, 2011: 

“Warm-up.”

Light hits the dawn

On the morning of the soft

Day

I am drowning in your tears

The leaves are not yet fallen

When they will fall

I will fall into my true love’s

Arms!//

To my Best Friend,

 Zhanna Kvacheva:

Little May Lady,

Will you dine on pinecones and

Acorns, bread

And roses, will you

Drink

From a clam shell

And gaze

Far out

Into the future

We me thine own dear friend?

“Surely the heart never did betray

The heart that loved her!”

November 2^nd, 2011

I dreamed that I was alone

In a room

That was alone

And the flowers spun in dizzy

Abandon

Purple

Like falling leaves

And the stars we made into

Words

And blew our breaths on

The ice panes that said

“I went crazy after I saw you again------“

Slowly I open my eyes

Rain is pouring on the morning

And the heat is on,----

Then awake, I smile,

And you whisper

“I love you”----

But I am alone in the

 Room I know and I can warm

My hands to its breathing

In-and-out like a mother and

We’re so warm and I am a part of

This room and the room is my

Home---Alone, we giggle in tea over

The cold steel rain outside…

I am alone.//

Friend,

The world is big and

When you are small

You can be free

From all the confines

Of the world.

We’ll hold off the grown-up

World—I’ll just speak

Some imaginary Chinese or

Prophesy.

Tell them to stick it

And get the hell out of my house

And guess what, I am insane

So don’t bother me

Then I will grow the biggest

Flower and sing in my

Nightgown, as always—

When I say I’m different

I mean it

And I’m not going to go out there…because I hate, I hate, I hate dealing with stupid grownups.

We can cook our own food and

Wear our own clothes and music

And follow dreams//

Spring comes, bringing with it

New life.

Spring comes, Autumns,

Winter, a sunny day…

Hyperbole and goose feather

Snow,,,,

What do you remember?

My memories are hidden

From me—

My memories are like candles

That must be lit with

Fire and light, candles that

Will endure,

Candles tapered

Candles straw-like,

Candles brilliant as the sun//

I will go;

Yes—I will go as far then a

As now; I will go shoeless,

I will go with nothing but

A bouquet.

Where I will go no one will know.

None to greet greet me but for the piles of snow,

None to seek me, none

To meet me, but wild roses

And violets where dandelions grow.

I will not always be

Gone; as

Children are not always a child, as I am not where

I once was, or where—At this point I end my message

Here.//

Words—gauzy covered

Little cobwebs,

And I’ve encountered large

Spiders bigger than

Your hand--//

Memory I am lost

Drifting

Too late—where did you find me?

Where the wild
swallows gather,

Where the trillium

Is young –jovenes-

It was Christmas

I was holding Chris’s hand

And we got too many gifts

And I thought they were unkind—Rather I, rather unkind I, and I blind!//

“Advice to myself at closing of the year”

A bit farther

A bit faster

Don’t become lost

Find a master

Learn to teacher

Befriend a preacher

Vegetables, don’t forget to

Eatcher—

Cook some ramen

Say your amen

Take too many if there’s any

Count your pennies

Count friends your enemies1

And never finish early!

Tell a rhyme,

Waste some time

Break your heart then

Have some wine!

The gifts are so fine, But

 we have no money

this Christmastime!//

All I am feeling is

Floating, like freefalling

Like a fish in water

I wonder where the

Rainbow ends, and will

I find--?//

PART TWO.  Meditations

….And so, I awoke in a room

That was not my own, though

I’d lived in it for years…

And the room that

Was alone became an insomnia

Which I did not know; which

Plagued me.

--and so, I returned to the meagre slow work

Of making books.

----It was all out and out—the computer was out, I was in debt, we were fighting; and there was no one

Left.---

In a fear that my body

Should turn to a flock of

Wild birds I was attempting

To remain calm; so I picked

Up a pen, and I began writing

These words….

The peril of these words; yea,

And the consequences of which

Were hitherto unforetold---

I thought, ”I don’t love

Him—not after all this, after all this—wouldn’t anybody want to be saved?”

(And ignoring the fact that I was probably better off for being without it all—but it seemed such

A god-forsaken Shame!

Such a shame, to be held back so.  But no, that

And that world is a dangerous

Living one; and I was ranking upon my enemies…. If

Only I could attain that constant energy with which

To burn----!

--And so I returned

To my child-world, utterly bereft.  And here I am, vacant, with panic-to-calm.  Stripped, deceased, no---

---the whole thing’s got to go,

Yes, lock, stock, and barrel!

I end, briefly; here, for some

Coffee…//

The work of it is a hard

And laborious process for

Which I know takes more

Determination than most

Things.  The problem of it

Is more than the solution—

Of the jilting, jilted stop go- composition of the thing; (poetry) I am unkempt, bereft, unable….The mending process is a darning and a kneading over-under the likes of which are difficult to appraise

The worth of….but the value of them, at least, is great!

  --I believe that I am going to—

--have to begin here, have

To try a new medium, I

Can’t force it the energy’s

Gone

I want to be behind a stained glass

Window in a chapel behind

A wall, in a church where

I am safe from the world.

I don’t think any of this matters…I don’t think it matters whether I write

Poetry or not---I had a

Dream…I’m so talented

But I have a short fuse—

Time to turn to narrative—

Something experimental—

Poetic prose?

--Softly, in the dusk

I am counting the years

Back, to my

Dreams, to the time by which I should have had a child…

I can see blood-filled

Fruits, blood-filled

Streets, honeycombs of burnt sugar over a pool of custard, milk, and egg yolks.

A black

oak black with fungus

a tilted violin

a dead daisy

I hate rosemary

But it steadies me----

A tired song plays---

A dirge—words falling

So fast and slow, I

Do not want to know

WHY am I writing and not resting?  As if there were any dreams out there for me to find.  As if I’d ever lived outside this county—

--I did

For a winter and a spring

I lived on an Island

In the sea.  You had to cross

A drawbridge to

Get to my house.

There was marsh--

I went to the ocean

Clammy with sweat

Ugly somehow, grasping the

Surf in my torn fists…

I lived on an Island.

--I have lived by the sea

And watched dolphins

Surface alongside my car

At dawn as I crossed

The inlet to an island

Where I worked

--went to a “Club”,

Was like the picture –image of decay and flash. 

God!  Yes, yes, I tell you,

I have been lost.  I have been entirely lost and forgotten in the entire universe for a long long time…I don’t remember---where I was---

I’ve been lost----

Cathedrals, a crying tourist

Handing me her beloved

Rosary in a church—

--didn’t she see, I only went in there to think?

I’ve been lost.

I’ve been so lost no one knew where I was, and I’ve seen things

No one could have seen

If they weren’t lost—

And I’ve seen things that I only see when I close my eyes when I cant sleep at night—and right now

I just want to throw it away I just want to run awau I don’t

Want to live and die

This way. 

I wanted to be somebody, myself,

I don’t want to be what anyone wants me to be, no one,

I want to be who I am, and I like myself very much---take the day to be who I am without

Anyone telling me who I am—that’s what

 I want.

And never look back-----//