Wednesday, March 29, 2017

She Remembers The Word Corona, Crown, The Halo Around The Sun...

[for Sister Marcella Marie Holloway
and for the poet, Paul Roche]

equinox and the orange flares of crayons in the leaves
we stencil drew and cut with blunt ended scissors
at the first cold snap, renewed; she snaps her fingers and

wraps the colours induced by frost

in her own room, using up all the tape.
for the gift wrap's sake be kind and mind
at the white gloved receptions in the afternoon

and let the scarlet maple lose all leaves at once
in a cardinal flash of breeze so that her mind is lost in the
fleetness of beauty past unreckoned on

and the air is cooled and the sunlight glows

with the regrets of her last angels.
the scholars read by candlelight of stars
the coming and waning of kings

but for you, God made the trees
that they could shed ochre tears
that you yourself would ever disappear

while the sardonic teacher read
in the corona of her years
Margaret are you grieving, dead?

before your time?

making enemies in rhyme in every line
this time the competition's clear
and casting your heart before

the unknown God? my dear, my dear,
too young to be mystically inclined.

mary angela douglas march 29 2017

Diagramming The Sentence Or, The Sentence Commuted

the first tyranny imposed is that, you know,
you will no longer be the subject of your own sentence.
at worst you will be the verb and serve, o underserved

at the pleasure of someone else's noun, pronoun.
oh yes. at best the adjective
for something near at hand:

on their land.
and you will write on the nightmare blackboard
ten times ten thousand times

I'm somebody else's rhyme
and I must make do
with their old shoes, their superior mind

for knowing what it is that I should BE
to deserve to continue to receive the castoffs they
no longer need and oh, God, not to impede

their reasons to feel good about
what they no longer want
on any given day.

for giving it away
they will be given the great awards
at the very fine banquets raised
to keep you in tin cans.

but you are majestic catching as catch can
extraordinary as. the subject of His wakefulness:
in God's resplendent hand.

mary angela douglas march 29 2017

Did We Play Hide And Seek With God

did we play hide and seek with God
in the long blue twilights
there where the stars fell

into the night grasses
and not the dew as we had thought.
there we were promised three wishes

three wishes and more.
is it vain to store those half lights
jewel toned though they were

to rummage in boxes tied with a silver string?
this close to Christmas,
I don't know.

I won't be held to account.
but I have seen His shadow on the grass
and felt the tremor in the stars.

and something mysterious, come to pass...

mary angela douglas march 29 2017

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

To Children, In Their Dreams

maybe we'll get our mail on the moon
if all else fails I say to myself
and God smiles somewhere

behind the clouds
Ill dress the luna moths
in pale green

as you would
when you were free
and maybe the sky will telegraph me

and maybe the sea
or we will go and live at the poles
and stash the snows

for summer
when it comes
if it comes

we will see it all
from a ringside seat
won't it be sweet

to rain the moondust down
on the streets
to children in their dreams.

mary angela douglas 28 march 2017

They Couldn't Say

I dreamed of distances of evergreen
the air brimming with crystals.
it fell softly there

the winter light
the flight of birds like a kind of calligraphy
through the clouds.

I dreamed of evergreen
and I was near to them
the clouds and the birds

the winter falling around me
and the petals of snow.
how far have I to go

I asked my old angels.
but they couldn't answer me.

mary angela douglas march 28 2017


these are the branches of the hours
the silver, the golden the unlooked for
filled with their glaced fruit

in the nursery sighed for
and the ribboned rose.
these are the branches of the hours

the amethyst skied in the februaries gleamed
and you were quiet then.
like a wall of snow

an icicle tower
and you tried not to know
except the tolling of hours

and these are the bells
not for your instruction
the ones that spell holidays

and the holiness apart
that wound your heart
and this ah finally is the

tree in all its dower
and the end of Time for you then.

and the foliage of when.

mary angela douglas march 28 2017

The Future Is Coming To Me, Did They Sing

the future is coming to me did they sing
the brides without veils
to the inconstant seas

oh wrap your heart in a cloud
and send it to me
the skies will matter less to

you in your dreams
you won't know then.
the future is coming

and the lilac moon
and the harps played out of tune
when the singers flee

singing, now is the future coming to me?
now will the will o' wisps turn;
the acute conscience burn

the gold of the soul be beaten into straw?

how will we learn
if you send no message
if you send no message

at all

mary angela douglas march 28 2017