CLOUDS AS THEY REMIND US WHOSE DREAMS WE WERE, WE MAY BE AGAIN

seeming to float above will they slip down in fogs

seeming to stray or follow the commerce of angels

the raspberry orange crepescular, the winnowing saints

dreading the rains, the diamond winds, will they? the snows when they

disappear again my ruby splintered sighs will you rise again

I do not know said the child so softly only the cherry cirrus heard

driven away to join the circus herds; the air bourne birds of other

zones in cumulus stratifications, nimbus haloed above the nations in

cotton candy birthday, birthday party clothes of

pinks and blues or summery or toward Oz

in lime green horizons, latitudes above the changeling, emerald seas

who are you where have you been and for how long

continue continue in silent bells, ballets above the stratospheres

above the Christmases, the lawns in peach coloured butterfly years,

the blizzards

to come snowbound in the snow globes as we meant to be

conscious of nothing but maybe the sun, the glazing moon

unexpectedly gilding you as though you were someone else's dream;

but aren't we, weren't we His dream? I mean, God's or else

meant to be or almost, still becoming and so the clouds portend

blown by as if you were harps of pearl and luminously

by the iridescence of trebling breezes seized

heart flung, creasing the stars, oh far catapulting swans

forming before huge storms and dim;.where will you end

drifting, never arriving between earth and sky

oh my quaint loves.my foremost citadels. my fragilest of friends.

mary angela douglas 31 october 2022;17 february 2023

INCONSOLABLE

shaking out hidden embroideries

on the run in slippers of the ghazal

she stumbles almost to fall

at the city's gate of pitch

becoming pearl

fled into moonlight

none to explain her spectre

turn the page ivoried with age

or tea stained as was the rage back then

and on parchment as by order of the king

explain to the children why o why

who made the holes in the sky

where once there were stars.

mary angela douglas 30 october 2022

BLUE RIBBONS

"Johnny's so long at the fair"

old English folk song (Oh Dear, What Can the Matter Be)

hey there and nonny nonny

talk about your fair bound johnny

Blue Ribbons.

why is he so late.

forget all that and bake a pie

a very cherry triple berry

crust that's pinched

and you're a cinch

for Blue Ribbons.

betcha win First Prize.

and hurry home it's half past one

the damage to the pumpkin done

there's no more coach and you are broke

and all that's left of fairy gowns is

Blue Ribbons

oke, hoof it back from town

how the world goes round.

when it wants renown

each froggie in the puddle deep

and all the tadpoles cannot sleep

they want

Blue Ribbons.

Blue Ribbons.

mary angela douglas 30 october 2022

FACING THE DRAGONS WE WOULD ALWAYS BE

facing the dragons we would always be

a little lacking in chivalry

but one must discern from the things one learns

I heard them say between the lines

in memoirs of the finest kind

the knights of glass hills and the next in line

perhaps to be kings when the midnight chimes

on all the barrows that we could see

in a vision meant for you or me

that no one else will ever believe

as much as the world counts on sheer greed

yet there were knights and they were true

is more than fiction

I promise you.

mary angela douglas 29 october 2022

THE WINTER MUSIC HERE AT HOME

frost fills the room quite quaintly,

delicately, daintily

and I expect no less a miracle

than that it should snow here in my book snug rooms

because of the window that will not close

that cannot be fixed or so I was told or it was inferred

that clouds should form near the low ceilings

rococo as you please in tints of pink and gold

and caves of crystal too where implacable angels reside

keeping you alive when the thermostat won't do

when the winds come through as in Scandinavian folktales

star crossed, from the Great distances

to a dollhouse apartment imprecisely heated;

turning all, all into the ice blue notations, phrases

glazed phases of the moon tree shadows shivering

gusting into the tiny living room the kitchen niche

the teakettle

staffed on every line with curio tunes

that I may inscribe

the imprint of two thousand Christmases,

the opulences of pines; aurora borealis

in three quarter time of a music box waltz

composed and recomposed into the sublime

glorious repetitions of the Christ child codas...

christening,

how jubilation does not cease from age to age

even if not candlelit creamy but overflowing

filling every page with sainted transparencies

stained glassed coloured in the waning days

when you fold the crease in the music and move lightly on

to become the Song itself as it is prolonged 

even to the point of freezing time in its rudiments

and in its gemlike chimes finding the sound is

mine like the carolers depicted on old sheet music;

come to life!

your mouth like a cherry o

the way we sang at school so long ago

or in the odd dream with the forest glade rippling

once again in your cameo appearances to reprise

the frail assurances of all those early Springs

the pale green surprise

that was and will remain my fondest glissando

even trailing off into the winter stars

peering into the little matchstick girl

scenarios

that spurt of flame bejeweled,

inexplicably beautiful:brine, on the incoming wave

down to the chilling bone

this winter's visionary music, here at home.

mary angela douglas 28 october 2022;29 october 2022;18 february 2023

PIERROT STAND FAST ON THE WINDS OF GLASS

Pierrot stand fast on the winds of glass

everything hurts you in the blast

Pierrot

wink at the sun and blink for the moon

everything's jangled in your tune

the moon in old gold braclets,

Pierrot, that glints

centuries pass and it's still the same

a valentine of sugar snow pain

lost oh lost in an antique frame

wait for the earth to turn round again

mazed in a maze bemusing the Muse

and eyes so sad they could melt the stars

can anyone tell you who you are,

filled to the brim with vague regret

offering to no one the white violets,

Pierrot

mary angela douglas 26 october 2022;18 february 2023

THE RIDDLE BEFOREHAND

how is it that we live

till the next communique

through a sieve

or floating backward on the tide

only glad to be alive

in rippling music, until then

when we reach the shore

where we may begin

mary angela douglas 25 october 2022

BEFORE THE VOYAGE

See, where He traces in the skies

the maps of stars for us to go by

and tribulations cast in stone

the anchors of our grievous sighs

Cast off!. my soul-

shall not abide.

mary angela douglas 24 october 2022

note: original title was to my father with dedication reading for Robert R. Douglas

some problem in this needs to be fixed it doesnt sound completely clear, I mean it to sound like a send off for my father I couldnt articulate at the time of his death but in fact my father and I did NOT have this kind of relationship although I did pray so many times that the hour of his death would be free from fear and I did remember a conversation we had once about the Resurrection, that this was the main point of Christianity: Easter, the Resurrection and the sun was setting a faint pink in the skies and we were outside on the carport talking as it did so.  That needs to be in the poem.

I keep thinking of the word l'envoi that goes in the front of some rare books...

Pilgrim's Progress??

WHAT CAN NOT BE SOLVED ON EARTH

stars mired in the labyrinths, casebooks closed.

beautiful volumes still

immortalize the Rose

canny the imposters

pounding at the door

don't answer.

whistle and I'll not come

the motto of this hour.

those who can will wield again

illegitimate power

God alone stands ready

luminous on the Field

yield to Him and you will have

the shield of all that's real

casebooks opened by the watchmen of the night

what cannot be solved on earth

in Heaven, will, in Light.

mary angela douglas 23 october 2022

MYOPIA

world wide weather has become The Cause

nothing else but the Continental Shelf

the hurricane names

and who's to blame

lets pivot and focus on the hole in the sun

not what's to be done

about anything else

keep fear alive

to feel alive

and joke and jive at God Alive

God battering on the door

where all the captives are stored

forget the heart shattered

only weather matters.

mary angela douglas 23 october 2022

THE SHIFT IN THE MUSIC

what at first seemed strangely beautiful

revealed itself to be strangely terrible

too late they spied the window left open

in the horror show of the world

too late to trade the black magic in

for the one True God

true tardiness

and then

a shifting in the wind

the air of dream

you breathe and you breathe again

beauty that has no flaw

Beauty that died for us all.

to Live.

mary angela douglas 23 october 2022

LOFD OF THE VEIN OF GOLD IN THE SUNS

  for Jesus of Nazareth, the risen Lord

Lord of the vein of gold in the suns

weep for me, my only One

cover the ground that I may not see

tears of blood you shed for me

at beleaguered Gethsemane

leaf of green on a withered tree

dove of the ark since infinity

crack the tomb with lightning speed

Door of Heaven be for me

Door of Heaven be for me.

mary angela douglas 22 october 2022

PUMPKIN TIME IN THE OFFING

drawbridge in across the moat immediately

isnt it funny how the intuition grows eyes and ears

this time of year while the princess wears cornsilk

to know: that footstep light as snow and ghosts is wrong

batten down, seize quilts from attics for that North Wind is ill

bind no cherry bright frill of thread tonight

upon the tapestry of light

by candlelight and with a good will

eat candy corn from noon till morn

see by the moonlight the blank form forewarned

seeking a farther stair and worn

beware. say a prayer.

carve letters of orange and black

get back get back from the sizzling cat

tack the nightmares downy down down.

all safe and sound way under

the Evening Star.

mary angela douglas 22 october 2022;18 february 2023

AMAZING HOW MUCH LIGHTER I FELT

amazing how much lighter I felt

imagining I was the sky

and held all colours letting them go at sunset and to sleep

and sleeping the dream of clouds of the various declensions

then the clouds lined with moonlight, with gifting snows

or with the violet rains replete

above the trouble below above the forest green oil

of the treelines in the mystical paintings

and farther up, there are angels

semiprecious, a ladder of heavenly commerce

the singing of nations of birds in flight

the winds of the inner and outer worlds

the softer wind from the seashell gale

touching holy palm to palm

the becoming of stars, their imprints unraveling

the fairy tales in jubilation of bells,

the concourse of Heaven, pristine

in all the shades of blue.

and I in a lemon dress

by way of contrast

dreaming this dream

and the golden seams of it all.

mary angela douglas 22 october 2022;18 february 2023

FOR DYLAN THOMAS IN THE DARK BLUE DUSK, THE GILDED DUST OF WORDS (REPOSTED)

 

FOR DYLAN THOMAS IN THE DARK BLUE DUSK, THE GILDED DUST OF WORDS

(for the poet Dylan Thomas)

as you were singing that the givers of Light

would have no end that the green rills

growing greener would furl in waves

about us ever near and clearer from year to year and that the

sun dipped in the clouds down low

would ever arise

somewhere farther beyond your white roads' chrism

we forgot that poetry is not prose

and no longer gathered the rose upon rose in praise

the once upons.

so that the prismed web broke

apart weeping

and with it the human heart

my heart and where

and what and how in Art will the angels come

to trouble the springs again my friend

my friend so that healing descends

when your voice is stilled

when the news is all we know

I cannot comprehend

only that vaguely

blue and darker blue with the dusk

as your disguise the village from afar

you 'll view

and weep for Wales and all you knew

the vast tendrils conquered and subdued

for all that meant to you.

and we go casting about in sighs

mere ghosts of ourselves

forgetting what you knew.

that bright words, should not be spare

but myriad, like the stars.

mary angela douglas 24 november 2016;22 october 2021

TRANSLATIONS

TRANSLATIONS

(to Hans Christian Andersen)

she says "teardrop"

which translates "earring'

or the slip of a moon

left behind to shine

to waver with the lustre of pearl

in the dimming evening

what are words anyway

compared with the brilliance

of stars clouded over

the eye of the nightingale

ruby in its setting

the Emperor, breaking down.

mary angela douglas 21 october 2021

DIRGE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY

earth stand still that tears may gather

drowning the sun

the firmament entire

earth stand still

let wind quench fire

let the windows of the stars

draw down their shades

let business grind to a halt in May

at the height of Spring

for the grief that is hidden in the every day

and in everything

for the worldwide grief

that is never timed out

but that somewhere rears its snake hooded visage

or with its pincers bites the lovely moment and stings

in the out of the way with callous witnesses or none

and brings to its knees even one unsuspecting

civilian of good will or Christmases 

our heads be bowed, our heartbeats to silent tolling wrung

that even one child is struck down with a momentary hand

while the traffic roars ahead to progress and good times

to satisfy a whim or nothing at all now,

as in ancient times.

mary angela douglas 20 october 2022;20 february 2023

NO MORE THE SAME

no more the same

the soul blisters its cage

in a blue lightning rage against the grounded flights

of earth's inconstancy

stand on the wheel of time

and do not faint

when the sky crushes in and the clouds are

falling even in the raspberry light

and the singing birds fly helplessly

into the silver abyss with their language of

meadowsweet, meadowsweet

beyond earth there is bliss

after numb lamentation

hold on;

wait for the lilac passages to come

God understands

your plight.it won't be long.

mary angela douglas 20 october 2022;23 october 2022;20 february 2023

NURSERY RHYME TOTAL RECALL

no more sass. sassafras

sarsaparilla, golden vanilla.

tell me a story, morning glory

shake your head, oh, instead

cherry coke, rootbeer float

burgers, fries more besides

chocolate treat, oh so sweet

roses scrawled, on the wall

not in trouble, double bubble

big surprise, tell no lies

forget the words, mockingbird

sing away, the drizzly day

till at last its time to say

say your prayer, teddy bear

full of grace, in this place

I love you, course you do

get some rest.

spelling test

have no fright.

pink nightlight

God is good

God is good.

mary angela douglas  19 october 2022

I DO NOT WEEP OVER THE DEATH OF SNAKES

I do not weep over the death of snakes

I shall not weep over the death of snakes

knowing how everything turned out in Eden

and that, for my baby sister's sake

our collie, Fearless risked her life on a

summery afternoon

batting a striking cottonmouth away

from her and died in battle

and so

however much I become addled even unto

the most advanced age

I will not weep I will not keep a fond spot 

in my heart for snakes

seemingly inert or otherwise disguised 

be they unrustling in the leaves on the ground

or in pretty brilliant colors coiled  all

around in seconds mimicking a coral sunrise

in the overgrowth of the woods

the innocent and the good.

mary angela douglas 18 october 2022;20 february 2023

TO THE UNKNOWN POETS

your soul, singing above the wilderness

is heard by angels, light years on their way,

stray stars.

fragments of star showers

blasted out of their shining perhaps

by covert experiments.

your Soul,honey of pears

no despair

fine as mist wasn't missed except by God

lived raggedly in the past tense barely shod

but sang on earth notwithstanding

a bird in cactused exiles 

courting invisible roses

and the jeweless Nightingale.

grow pale as dawn now, fade from the fading.

no second guessing. poet in waiting.

may your memory be a blessing, your least 

call.

to those who forget to

acknowledge you.at all.

mary angela douglas 17 october 2022;20 february 2023

For These So Many Graces Lord I Forgot To Tell You About Before

these things may I thank You for as well:

the memory of bells glass choired

the crust on the day like bread

warmed by the sun

the books that lead you

into the magic gardens one by one

yet don't wall you in

the crunch of snow new glazed

the lighthouse beam

through uncertain haze

the cooling drink on high summer days

of blended fruit juice welcoming

and dream fragmented sleep

when each dream is 

like letting light in through a star flecked

window shade, twice over light we called it

the stray things in a drawer kept that at odd 

times I recollect

and costume jewelry scattered tangled

in a child's own galaxy

(when it falls to the floor imparting secret 

radiances from the chalice of a jewel box)

you're getting a little wordy smiled the sun,

the tap of reprimanding rain at the door

and the March winds sweeping down a hill

how I adore

with the fairy tales of the evermore 

as translated by Hans Andersen.

and staying home

for any reason at all.

and being comforted

when you feel as small as Alice

tearful beside the garden door,

she cannot breach;

the key strategically high up

on the crystal table she cannot reach.

unless you intervene.

mary angela douglas 16 october 2022;7 august 2023

ADVICE BEFORE BOARDING THE DREAM FERRY

have a bit of cake

washed down by starlit waters

an elderberry flower

do not your prayer forsake

it may do you good

lost children in the wood

who stray too far

take a glow worm in a jar

be guided by small things after graduation

the moss on trees

the leaves when they turn gold

weathervaning in the evenings

and when it's cold, take your sweater

tell yourself the warmest stories.

God will know what to do.

if you listen, He'll tell you.

mary angela douglas 16 october 2022

ON A LONG AWAITED OCCASION

on a long awaited occasion

the Soul said to the Night

this is the last nocturne

to the music inside invisibly weeping

at the piano;

on the merry go round in broad daylight

the last flight oh Pegasus

the one caparisoned in all the colors melting

down

melting down the universal candle

branches in the sky into a foreign candelabra

where the moon will fly from its flywheel

discovering other coasts again

bereaving the princess in the wistful tower

and through the scudding hours

forget, forget the histories of men

to flower like a gardenia

God's own heart to win.

mary angela douglas 16 october 2022

I HAVE BEEN AWARDED

I have been awarded

the moon and the sun

the small stars indiscernable at dusk

but that will surely come;

outrageous Grace

to seek God's face,

dried roses from a childhood made of pinks

and blues, pale greens

the ozone scent of orchid rains

in what I breathe and drink in only

are they only I inquire of you and wistfully

dream birds that warbled

over the fruited plains of all you are to me,

America, lost and gained

and shimmering beyond all realms of OZ;

what faith in you could mean!

I have been awarded

year after mystic year past all blank absences

bright options to be grateful while still here

even for as my Grandmother said,

"this vale of tears"

this vale of tears and the afterthoughts that 

linger past all our carnation pretty years

and april, april everywhere

in flower at least in mind my epithalamium

of days too fugitive and the ties 

that bind

past all too human despairs,

disparities, the amber legends reclaimed

that we might seize the ghost lit fires of

Icarus again

never blinded by the sun fueled veerings,

vertigo

when all, when all, my soul, is never

said and done and disappearing

but a golden becoming

for all words are not lost when the heart is 

side winded

they are merely foundlings beyond

the probabilities of rust and dust

seeking their Forever

in us, we happy laden few

who love still love the Christmas Baby in the

manger:

the poets minor and major

the sweet musical arrangers

without disclaimers.

mary angela douglas 15 october 2022

QUANDRY

forgetting how to breathe the way they made you

mermaid on land it's really hard to dream

leaving the green blue tides and former hauntings

the coral and the occasional slipstream

what is it then to learn to somehow glide here

no one on earth could translate better than you

but how to translate without even a language

no one can tell you how to manage to.

mary angela douglas 13 october 2022

THE FAIRY GODMOTHER SHOOED FROM THE DOOR

I know things about the things you know

that you think demonstrate you are the grownup

of all grownups

and so at your doorstep I can no longer go

with my little may baskets,

even with my best wand

and rhinestoned spectacles, my folk art dress

and beads

my fairytales unimpeded

to lead you gently back to before you grew

to know so much that isn't good for you

who don't know who you are at all

but when you were a child, you knew

I remember back that far among the rustling

trees a mysterious

moon...the lavender blue

in the world you must choose not to be

thought so wise or falter into their disguise

to be truly you you must be a simpleton 

like when you were twelve and still tossed

gold into the wishing well

gold coins or thought you did, the chocolate

wrapped variety

and thought of saints and dragons in the world

and fell asleep dreaming of your cutglass

sparkling kingdoms

where love is always true and rainbow pleated

signed off on in cloud covenants

and requires nothing but to be true to the

original Oringal,

music the music the way it was written down,

even more, the way it was felt is feeling still,itself

when all others leave the room

still to believe in chivalric codes

even when the roses are all withering

but the soul blooms only

where there is no snickering at the truly

golden

beauty for its own sake, beautiful

and for God

you cannot forsake and be the same

Ah, well. let time be.

you've had enough of me and my admonishments

and of birthday candles and honest revelry

the taste of strawberry ice cream is wasted on

you now.

the brindled cow sold for the magic jelly

beans.

you think you are ahead

oh my dear but you

left worlds behind instead

better far than those you barely function in.

I know things about the things you think you

know

and what it cost, is costing still

and so I weep into the violets a foolish

woman,

girl or crone; a rippling image holding on

gliding backwards slowly into the mirror's

mirror

mary angela douglas 13 october 2022;20 february 2023

CERTITUDE

Revelations, CH. 21, The Holy Bible

everything will be reborn

where the heart is never torn

and the earth and sky are one

the rising and the setting sun

where beauty beckons everyone

and home is home

and only one

where peace a starry ensign flies

above the sorrows unreprised

mary angela douglas 10 october 2022

IN THE DREAM COUNTRIES YOU TURNED TO GO

 

in the dream countries you turned to go

and everyone's heart filled up with snow

everyone's heart filled up with snow

like flower cupped trees in a wintry april

as in a story by Conrad Aiken

till silent snow became the stars

with everyone looking for where you are

in the jewel box tiny and stunning ballet

or why does it always seem this way

in the dream countries when you turn to go

and everyone's heart fills up with snow.

mary angela douglas 10 october 2022;21 february 2023

BLUE ASPENS

blue aspens I have never seen

except in paintings I have dreamed

like blue ink on a rain soaked page

a letter sealed but never sent

and a forest wind on a sapphire plain

where nothing lives but falling rain

and blue aspens in a sunset glint;

somewhere remote, remotest sound

and scattered stars are all around

and I am lost between two eternities;

like music between the piano keys

slipping through just a few

angels convening from a far radiance murmuring

at last, at last on the Lord's sweet secret calendar

have come to pass:

blue, blue aspens.

mary angela douglas 9 october 2022

BETWEEN THE TEAR SMUDGED BATTLE LINES

between the tear smudged battle lines

you read instead the star maps as they climb, the stars,

above all frays and anything else you had in mind

too far from your dreaming days

the sorrowful cost, defrayed.

let Time bear swiftly down

you will find another hour

is granted you and then another

sustaining your amazement

as you fall

unwounded into

a Spring breaking out

into little gold flowers and the Immutable.

mary angela douglas 7 octoner 2022;21 february 2023

HANDLE MUSIC CAREFULLY

handle music carefully

as if clouds were monuments

the home you grew up in

the baby's breath in the earliest bouquets

and guard oh guard its sanctuaries

the beautiful composers knew

you must be still

to hear the stars

in the blue gold cold

when the darkness lifts

and they fade, singing together

mary angela douglas 7 october 2022

THE HISTORY OF DREAMS IN FRAGMENTS

crushing the jewel box cities they floated away

the jewels still shone

they floated away in parachutes made of flowers

landing on the Other Side

because the Princess wanted to wear silk again

and she knew there would always be flowers

birdsong from ruined trees and Christmas choirs and

grass growing softly over the untended graves

rebuilding the jewel box cities we were praised

again we raced up the hills to soak in the stars

the stars that aren't there anymore

yet from the burned out distances

they are plain as day at night

I want to go to school to spell in light years

after the wars,

what can't be understood no matter how many

candles are on the cake don't you see

no matter how much people tell you to face reality

oh lovely, troubled human race

everything, finally, disappears

from this too

mysterious, fragile place.

mary angela douglas 7 october 2022;21 february 2023

OCTOBER'S RETICENCE AGAIN (REVISED)

(for Washington Irving)

caught out by the jagged wind's

October's reticence again

I heard the name of Ichabod Crane

and Sleepy Hollow's penned again

out on no mercenary mission.

all in flame the evening trees

more shivery than even these

by sunset's notice unreprieved

I followed down the desolate lanes

the apple fields of what remains

I heard the name of Ichabod Crane

an inner music tapped its cane

long lapsed the wheel of Catherine turned

and young was old and never the same

stared Rip Van Winkle and Ichabod Crane

troubled, in the grey mists of Rackham.

mary angela douglas 5 october 2022;21 february 2023

P.S. Racham refers to the otherworldly Englsh illustrator, Arthur Rackham.

MIDNIGHT COKE FLOAT TIME MACHINE FORAY

I imagine a worm hole opening up in quantumy space

and we go through to an old timey drug store 

once, we knew

and saddle up on the twirlable red or green leatherette stools

and order a coke float, each, which is, if you sadly don't

know, IS

two grandiose golden scoops of vanilla ice cream and coca cola

syrup almost like a Sunday benediction

out of a silver spigot poured all over it in a tall fluted

glass so that there is so

much foam at the top it's miraculous

and its fizzy a LOT and so cooling

and later we will twirl the rack, my sister and I

of the lovely display of the classics, illustrated comics

especially the junior classics which are of every fairy tale

we have memorized so far with that fresh comic book smell

that crisping glossiness

like a baby road map of the heart

a road map of the heart

and this is a memory wrapped in a net of gold

you must hold it carefully not to spill all the peppermints

and try it yourself some midnight when you can't sleep

when you

are concentrating really really hard on the caramel fizz

of the past 

so hard that all kaleidoscopes bloom at once

and we glide backwards with our runcible spoons

through Time and all its Junes

extra moonlight coating the dewy night grass 

for the Coke Float special, fifteen cents or a mercury dime

and nothing seems more idyllic nee sublime

in this or any other fan cooled, lifetime, Heaven, anyway,

than this parlour of the Saturday whenever you chose

it, cafe of the infinite long past the matinees let out

parfaits.

mary angela douglas 5 october 2022;21 february 2023

IN AUTUMN I DREAM OF GUTENBERG

I too like Gutenberg longed to hammer words into gold

into gold, saffron, the scarlet, violet of maples leaved and

leaving,

to polish the mirrors into flight reflectng the light of the

saints and souvenirs, chimerical albums

to leave even so faint traces of my own existence here

perhaps one pearllike tear admonishing not the one flower in 

a wilderness pressed not into a book

one modest stone or atomies

bearing like amber the slightest wavering of the fern

and to enamel lightly, sprightly on the earth the memory of

clouds

seeking to win, where yet, I only begin

and yet I dream it so

the moveable type of wings

the typography anointed

in all the colours of the sun to run the prism through

the handiwork of the mourning Dove on such a loom

to publish to the air only what I dare

and to let God pick up as a fond child

the somewhat phoenix ashes, and renew

the tattered heraldry

of what remained to do

the wild rose music left unscored

and yet it is enough for me and you

itinerant scribes no longer inscribing

I heard him almost whisper with a goldsmith's yearning

born out of his time

to set the type

illuminated come what may in after Mays

or to vanish with the missing page

posterity cannot find.

mary angela douglas 3 october 2022;21 february 2023