Thursday, August 02, 2007

Three Poem Re-Drafts


In the silent distance I can hear
the tumult of the dogs a-glow;
they bound on clouds and bay.
A shaft shoots swiftly forth
to strike the fleeing beast;
it staggers, stumbles, falls.
The sun leaps up and in smooth stroke
slits the throat of darkness.

The Dragons

The dragons are restless today;
they stir up hurricane and whirlwind,
puff forests to ash,
melt stone to rivers.

It must be mating day;
they sing with low trumpet-calls,
gather together and quarrel,
do aerial combat
and other things.

Once a century they come together
to multiply,
a fruitful congregation;
but with all these steel-clad knights
who rescue stupid damsels
(the kind who never learned how
to avoid the fiery dragons)--
they'll soon be extinct.

Then no one will know what it's like
to live in a world with dragons.
Imaginations will fail,
for a dragon is a sublimity
men and women cannot imagine.


A cathedral hewn of a single stone
holds a golden cross and an ancient throne
where the glory sat above the cherubim
in the holiest holy.

The Ge'ez prayers of an ancient rite
softly rise into velvet night
as Ezana's children pray by the wall
of the holiest holy.

I dreamed of Adsum where angels rest
on every tabot and stars are guest
at revels of hope and undying light
near the holiest holy.

Maryam Ts'iyon walks a path alone
through the cherubim beneath the throne
of the Highest High with His glorious gift,
the holiest of holies.

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