My Soul Is A Traceless Wound

my soul is a traceless wound

a bruising of stars

a trial with no witnesses

a tree of clouds where birds

are singing cloudless songs

a shade drawn against the sun

a fire stung by air

a rift within an

imaginary family

a sadness of inquisitions

no broken thread of remembrance floating

on the beautiful finger of God-

mary angela douglas 24 december 2003

copyright 2006

THE DOCUMENTS THE QUEEN MUST NEVER SEE

THE DOCUMENTS THE QUEEN MUST NEVER SEE

["Je te defendrai a la derniere carriere."*

-Mary, Queen of Scots]

the documents the queen must never see

are locked inside a cloud that

cannot weep

and it will take too long to

cast off the embroidery

that could have caused true

rescuers to come

not many ivory ships

will sail until:

you waken, foundered,

in a green wood

and witnesses are called

who have no voice-

a shimmering rush of wings:

the tongue-cut sparrows

lace the sky

lace the sky

with warnings bright as tromp l'oeil patterns

through the window of

the last cell

mary angela douglas 2 november 2005/10 november 2005

copyright 2006

*"I shall defend Thee while I still draw air."

I Dreamed I Saw the Libraries Of Heaven

"E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle."*

-Dante

I dreamed I saw the libraries of Heaven

and many books were there

that never saw the light of day on

earth-

and there were no sentinels at the door:

and in the air, something like flowers

and when you turned the page,

fresh meadows, endless hues-

and in a corner resplendent with light

and no newspapers-

you were reading by heart

and could not die-

mary angela douglas 13 may 2005

copyright 2006

*"and we walked out once more beneath the stars."

from Dante's Inferno, Canto 34 (when the poets emerge from hell)

I Draw My Heart Into A Sieve

I draw my heart into a sieve

of words-

my soul blisters and is not

contained-

my love is a flood of birds

but the flight patterns

make no sense-

my love tears on the eggshell wind

but the wind is gone

unsequestered in anyone's fairytale

my words, my heart, my life

I would place at your

feet-

but you are standing on the sun-

m. angela douglas 18 november 2001

copyright 2006

I Am The Tree Of White

["Why then, will we not turn our eyes toward the stars? Why?"

-Mikhail Bulgakov The White Guard]

I am the tree of white

and the petals that float to earth

with music on every page

unending-

at the heart of the rose is

a white word: a drift of

near-silence

and irrevocable solace

beyond flowering,

rimmed with light: at

times, overflowing-

living, living as this

branch of blossoming words

I am

commending the stars to earth

and hoping you will remember

mary angela douglas 20 march 2005

copyright 2006

I Am Sending This Flare Up, Oh

I am sending this flare up, oh

king of my distress

the messengers have no message

but their circuits are endless

not on any map can the nightingale be

found now

and the Emperor is dying

mary angela douglas 29 january 1999

copyright 2006

Here Is The Watermark

here is the watermark

I promised

will you hold it to

the light to know

it's real, will

you

hold the imprint

that can't be

reasoned out

or converted to

any other faith?

mary angela douglas 29 january 1999

Fra Angelico On The Green

Fra Angelico, on the green

and foaming waters I have

reverted to

such stillness-

enfolded in your rose

on a raft like a

Christmas postage stamp

in this glistening yet

starless hour;

in a harbor I can

never ascertain-

mary angela douglas 31 may 2005

copyright 2006

For The Light Of Your Palms

for the light of your palms

it seemed that I crossed mountains

sometimes in a dream;

sometimes awake

only visible to me: the incontrovertible

the wounded and the

clear

(not the sun or the moon)

but a universe bordering,

my own

mary angela douglas 23 june 2001

copyright 2006

In A Dream Of White Lead

in a dream of white lead

I heard the word

"Mayakovsky"!

you said that dream

should come to you, not me,

but can dreams be chosen?

later I dreamed that Joseph Brodsky

returned to his first

New York apartment

one week after his death,

stunned by the vacancy.

and in next year's ochre-lighted dream,

to a furnished one, complete

with friends and reviewers:

smiling, in a light apart

at their consternation,

serene

as once he stood before

Soviet tribunals so

clearly, tenderly, ironically

"decided by God"

mary angela douglas 30 september 2000/31 may 2005

copyright 2006

If I Tremble Like Glass

if I tremble like glass

before the sky of dreams,

still, that is music.

and if the angel of snow

on my left or my right

no longer upholds me,

still, my heart will not

stop bearing light or

shining

mary angela douglas 21 november 2000

FOR RUSSIA

FOR RUSSIA

[in memorium, Mary Adalyn Young-Douglas]

your terrible snows cannot conceal it:

all you have lost.

though it should snow forever, piling

lace on lace and pearl on pearl

in the sheer dream of your

interminable ballet.

your official icons privately weep;

does your heart sleep under the snow, my princess?

the rainbow of your dissidence appears and disappears.

it isn't magic: your multinationals cut down

like grain, star after star in the fading darkness.

then.the pale famine of renewed terror.

You! my martyred fairytale! could I reach

you through the agitprop

can I find your smile, my dispossessed

I carry white flowers in the swirling snow

to match the exquisite blankness of your soul.

the frozen curve of your "mier".

to be free you must take your

heart and hurl it at the moon; to be free you must be

anywhere else in the world,

but Russia.

how I would like to forget everything I don't know about you.

but your samizdat is clouding my heart,

your uncensored dream...

your God won't stop anointing me

when I long for your spring and the

bells in Kiev.

mary angela douglas 17 january 1986

At The Foot Of Your Golden Mountain

at the foot of your golden mountain

never seen:

I cried

turning in this

crevasse of rose

I don't know how to be

and the mists roll down

so easily, enclosing me

how can a living heart

be hidden-

and all their snow redactions seem

so signed off on?

like a prayer flag in a blizzard

of misconstrued intentions-

someone else's version of events

my heart my heart my

helplessness before you-

mary angela dougloas 5-7 april 2002/31 may 2005/30 august 2003/31 august 2010

Angels Of Flame Were Bending

angels of flame were bending

over the child of desolation,

over the disgraced and

reprimanded.

new chapters could now

be written:

the raven days precluded

all but your wanderers'

dream;

authorities ruled as if

the stars could be struck down

mary angela douglas 8 february 2001

All These Momentary Stays Of Execution

all these momentary stays of execution

under the flocks of

receding stars-

and the sun is

eclipsed indefinitely

and the pores of the soul

are magnified

but anyway, we have

already flown this

kingdom of petty

mysteries

since everywhere there are

random incisions that can

always be justified

and the world stage is darkened when

the actors cannot

improvise-

mary angela douglas 12 july 2004

All Their Flags Have Fallen

all their flags have fallen

still, in my heart,

another country rises

under a sky unknown

all their causes cannot

be espoused-

but I am enhanced by a

silence more true-

but I am a tree with

roots of gold-

mary angela douglas 25 june 2000

All the Hidden Names Of The Sky

I was counting over

all the hidden names of the sky:

I have no patronym.

icon makers are leaving me

their shreds of beaten gold;

they will not note the

elongations

of my living soul

mary angela douglas 20 june 2001

copyright 2006

My Castles Are Buried in Snow

my castles are buried in snow

and clouds of opal float over

no banner raised

and all this is just

chalk on white jade:

I cannot write my heart-

mary angela douglas 25 april 2005