Thursday, March 01, 2018

Four Poem Drafts

"Purgatory" is influenced by the end of Book VIII of the Iliad.

I Ought

I did not know you, yet I thought
the cosmos in your eyes was caught;
an endless treasure there I sought,
a world within --
I ought, I ought --
and yet, though cities rise and burn
and planets ceaseless make a turn,
I know not how,
not then nor now,
to quiet, still, the mental churn;
I did not know you, yet I thought
in inmost heart:
I ought, I ought.


Life is in the blood,
the heated fire,
the harvest of the good
from deep desire,
the rush of solar might
and purest light
turned to life and hope;

mix it well with gold,
the splendor sure,
the bee-brewed glory bold
like joy made pure
and turned to sweetness light
which gives words might,
fused with life and hope.


Holy hyperhexeract,
image of high heaven's grace,
well of legend turned to fact,
impress of the Holy Face,

sevenfold your universe,
tetradecaexon hope,
treasure infinite your purse,
spun of angel-thread your cope,

lines of grace in heptacross
your sacraments project on earth,
life abundant, hope from loss,
sevenfold with God's own worth.


The moon, refulgent through the night,
an argent tint and hue impart
to all the shadowy forms below;
its borrowed light,
in pale yet splendid sheen,
casts the world in contrast stark,
the crags and mountain peaks,
pallid-bright beneath the deep serene
where stars eternal shine with peace.
Exemplate down below,
high in hope the livelong night,
the air ensmoked with sacrifice,
ten thousand thousand hearts await
and endless fields of many more.
As when around the gleaming moon
the stars pierce through the breathless air,
when rocks in prospect shine
and shepherds on the heights rejoice
at endless stars
that endlessly endure,
the watching fires light the camps
with blaze of light upon the plain.
In satispassion hosts await,
anticipation's patient peace
upon their brows a holy crown,
before the City high-enwalled;
those walls that none may hope to scale
they hope to overcome,
to seize the City as their own--
not by arms, but by gift,
by waiting for the gift.
All throughout the night they watch,
waiting for the dawn.

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