A busy week, since school is starting up again. These are just a few experiments.
Chatter-Birds
Chatter-birds in trees at night:
thoughts inside my drowsy head.
Classical Composer
He's a providential musician,
the classical composer,
contemporary and nontemporary,
a truly classical composer,
providential in miracle,
providential in law,
prudent with a heavenly fortune.
A symphony is solidary
for a classical composer;
foresightedness is his vision
and subsidiary his supposing,
every part in sympathy.
The shiver of his music
crests on the page,
a wave.
The orchestras are ruined;
they are but a word remembered.
They thrum upon the waters
and fall,
unsaved.
But the mind's a classical composer,
and God's a classical composer,
and they compose a solemn symphony
for the orchestra of dreams.
Summer Shadow and Autumn Sigh
Summer Shadow bears a weighty ring;
in dream-like lands he muses,
in fluid and shamanic realms
he muses in leucocholy,
for in the mirror we all are memories
saving yesterday's child.
Distant-far comes Autumn Sigh,
an unwavering anticipation,
lovely in hand, with heaven-eyed heart,
for in the mirror we are all hoping
for a thing that will be seen.
Eternity is for the wanting;
this world is for the holding;
and at the honeyed equinox
the sorrows form a crown
as sad and lonely seasons
drink their nectar-wine alone.
Book of Grace
Holy Mary, Book of Grace,
all of Truth in little space
between your pregnant covers lies.
The living meaning of the Lord
is lovingly breathed through the Word
and rests on you, for you have heard
and answered Yes, O Virgin wise.
We can scarce imagine it:
The Word of God in you is writ
to be the Word in ink and page
of human flesh, a Word most sage
that breathes on all who seek to read
meaning greater than the age,
Spirit greater than all wit.
