In sealed box cars travel
names across the land,
and how far they will travel so,
and will they ever get out,
don't ask, I won't say, I don't know.
The name Nathan strikes fist against wall,
the name Isaac, demented, sings,
the name Sarah calls out for water for
the name Aaron that's dying of thirst.
They paddle with staccato feet
In powder-pools of sunlight,
Small blue busybodies
Strutting like fat gentlemen
With hands clasped
Under their swallowtail coats;
And, as they stump about,
Their heads like tiny hammers
Tap at imaginary nails
In non-existent walls.
1 Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us ...
2 Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent ...
3 Low drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient ...
4 Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous,
5 But nothing happens.
6 Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire.
7 Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles.
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
An apple blossom respite, among the wild springtime blooms,
Silence in hot sunshine golden, a pause in the familiar tunes,
Muted, pretty purple martins, in the season of endless green,
Indulge in a quiet spell, where teal sky and treetops convene.
Pretty blooms pause on runways, in the lazy style of summer,
Red butterflies erratically fly, to beats of a different drummer,
Lethargy now has precious time, caught within its silken grip,
Like silver moon and twinkling stars, in the endless courtship.
Shadows in the park...
Must be a sunny day...
Always wearing black...
Never having much to say...
Shadows never laugh...
They never, ever cry...
Sometimes they disappear...
If the suns not shining in the sky...
It's with such a heavy heart
that I say my prayers today...
Our friends and family are here one second,
only to slip quietly away...
Depression is all around us,
touching me and touching you...
So I'm asking our Heavenly Father,
please help us in this world of blue...
I was pretty talkative, and spent all of my days chit chattering,
Like galaxies of glinting stars, all the dark universe scattering.
I was always on the move, and loved cacophonic sights and sounds,
Like the deep thrill of excitement, when the carnival is in town!
People loved my easy laughter, and they said I was a lot of fun,
Like the fun of a storm's passing, when greeting the citrine sun!
I did not like the silence, for the silence would make me blue;
flowers in a vase
plum colored near bowl of grapes
middle of the night
charming fruit basket
of apples peaches and limes
in shadows of time
corn carrots and beans
on a farm table waiting