in the Zone above the rooftops now
I will inscribe for you in the snowbanked clouds,
the diffident albums now the spirographed colours
we could not use on this shore
or
in all preceding dreams, a kind of reprise
startling the angels, my angel
dream the dream of the snowbanks Emilia
it wasn't what we planned but still the swans fly over
the dry, dry land
in mystical kingdoms resolved
in an unheard music. weep not.
weep not maiden.
for war is kind
an American poet once said
we too in a wandering way
were led and farther afield
will build anew
everything we had planned to do
into all colours transposing them one by one
into the further installations
of the Sun.
mary angela douglas 8 june 2023
No comments:
Post a Comment