Every Moment Has Its Own Light

every moment has its own light

its planetary systems, tiny stars

even when we are sleeping

every moment is a portal of gold

a face indicating a soul

even when we are working and

cannot look at the sky without

penalty

every rose is chiming its own

rose-minutes freely, as in dreams even

while we are being herded

another place we don't want to go

every rose is leaving

without asking permission

petal by petal

how can it be

every moment holds a world they

haven't yet conquered

mary angela douglas 8 february 2006

All My Paper Towers Are Not

all my paper towers are not

gleaming in the sun

and the sketches for the

castle are too incomplete

and I just sigh when I

look at the pinprick

stars glittering

in the sweet blank sky above

the cardboard forest

but someday the inhabitants

will return;

the pink-tissue buds unfolding

under a foiled moon

mary angela douglas 11 february 2006

Oh Flower Falling From

oh flower falling from

a distant tree-

is it with you

I should hide

this distress

having passed through

somewhat bitter kingdoms

barely squeezing by

and the half-rests in

the music are

witholding

the first page of

this new translucent

spring-

when I cast

my net in sweeter

waters-

finding it so difficult to let go

will you be floating

near to show me

how-

flower falling, just now,

from a distant tree-

mary angela douglas 17 march 2006

Thumbelina

lifted on the swallow's back

over these dreams of green

fields

it's so hard to believe you

were ever underground

holding onto a failing curtain

of light

with your small hands-

sorting muddy laundry

for the Mole.

maybe it is better to

recall that day in the

passage the swallow came

back to life and

poetry was regenerated

alongside that spring-

this could not have been imagined;

this, above all things-

was real

mary angela dougls 25 march 2006

This Bargain Will Never Be Sealed

this bargain will never be sealed-

this natal star will change course

these endless working prisons,

dissolved

we will stand in the pure light

denied us-

we will look at the sky all day

the window to radiance will

never be closed-

mary angela douglas 6 december 2004

Standing Still In A Corridor

standing still in a corridor

of snow, the light of the

heart diffuse:

silence is dazzling

white butterflies crest and

crest again

the air I will not breathe

with you

and I will be leaving, turning

like snow diamonds

and I will be leaving, too-

mary angela douglas 12 february 2001

Every Sentence Is A Train of Pearl

EVERY SENTENCE IS A TRAIN OF PEARL

every sentence is a train of pearl

gliding into whiter distances-

where you will whisper in the

cloud-filled air

remonstrances of silver

there will never be another snow

like this covering even

the beginning of silence with

softer and softer tracklessness

and no one needs to come to

your assistance under a sky

this vast-

mary angela douglas march 2005

I Will Traverse This Winter Distance

I will traverse this winter distance

I will not forget

your white wonders

even with no gainful employment

the seal on my heart

that won't be broken

the wax of stars

when they cry out

melting in my last notebook

mary angela douglas 22 november 2005

There is Entrapment On

there is entrapment on

every side

there are paintings on

the wind

there is a glass I look

into discovering nothing

there is a wave I hold

in hands that turn into

music

and music that turns into

me, turning out

being turned out

mary angela douglas 17 april 2001

copyright 2006

There Will Be A Snowfall Of Poems

there will be a snowfall of poems,

a shower of gold;

you won't return home, empty-handed.

the children in the forest were

guarded by God knows who.

in the morning they woke up:

finding their exile over-

mary angela douglas 29 january 1999

What Have They Done With

[in memory of my grandfather, Milton B. Young]

what have they done with

my fairytale alphabet,

chasing down events?

I still believe in your

letters of gold cherished

in secret, guarded in times of war

your bursts of transcendent

light, your roses your

redemption

under your wings your

sorrow I have rested

in modern times

your blue shining skies

replaced for me by

nothing, my cloud, my dream

I will never be banished from

the realm of speaking

and living in you,

oh, my language of stars

mary angela douglas 29 january 1999

Through All This Coded Music

through all this coded music

we will stand:

bringing to harbor

all abandoned ships

as the turn of a phrase

conveys neglected beauty

or the countries of

a former aspiration-

mary angela douglas 24 july 2004

I Dreamed Of A Language

I dreamed of a language

that would not fall away or

be brushed aside like

snow on a winter sleeve-

or go unheeded.

of words that would never

shine at the approach of

the deliverers-

and the rose of this word was

the same throughout

and the heart of this rose was

my provenance-

mary angela douglas 30 april 2001

OSIP MANDELSTAM

OSIP MANDELSTAM

he sewed Dante

into his breast pocket

perhaps

and carried a bucketful

of stars

and clouds made way for

him but the others did

not

in the last days of

a held-over doom-

leaving behind

an inconsolable future

and

as many scanless notebooks;

or were they also

taken into custody?

rustling a coded matchless snow:

oh worldwide language distressed-

the more-than-widowed questions-

on the way to

who knows what

I hope

snow-blindness

saved him

from complete collapse

and that he entered

Heaven like a bridal

page on which

only light could be written

surely there was

a point of endless rescue,

of a thousand angels whirling

when he heard:

the diamond waves crashing

on a finer shore,

and felt on his back

the black sun, infinitely

illuminated.

may children stitch together,

barely understanding orders:

new notebooks from

the periphery of that rose

mary angela douglas 19 september 2005/2 december 2005