Wednesday, April 25, 2007

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
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

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 walk 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