Antigone, It Is Not My War

Antigone, it is not my war

to carry anyone's ashes.

breaching the farthest shore the

heart can reach-

bending all laws that would

bend me:

over the earth I will not cry

for what is lost with one breath more than

you have shown:

in the grave of the world,

still living,

we carry the green

branch in us

beyond immemorial codes-

mary angela douglas 23 june 1999

Fruit Flavored Drinks Were

fruit flavored drinks were

offered to the king before he slept

he didn't sleep

he dreamed on his couch awake of

tamarinds and citron and pomegranate stars

and the golden heart of some
wished-for destination

mary angela douglas may 1997

Bebidas De Fruta Fueron

bebidas de fruta fueron

ofrecido al rey

antes de dormir

el no podria dormir

sonaba abierto al divan de tamarindos

y del cidro

y de las estrellas de granada

y del corazon de oro de un

destino querida-

mary angela douglas spanish translation of original poem in English 3 october 2011

I Carry White Roses Through The Snow

I carry white roses through the snow-

disregarding everything.

I cover my face with their whiteness;

I cover my tears with

visionary roses at the place I

think you are only just leaving;

you shine like the winter air.

you walk through invisible roses.

mary angela douglas 27 july 1995

Is It Wellwater Shining

is it wellwater shining

when you cup your hand

and drink? you drink the

stars, the air no one

speaks words into, you

drink the clouds and the

nights of quenching rest.

is it wellwater shining

when you dip your hand when

you drink my soul?

mary angela douglas 30 december 1997

I Kept Your Carnelian Word

I kept Your carnelian word

every day in the street

that was never mine

I forgot how to walk, I

forgot to remember all

local customs

I only emblazoned Your

word of flame

mary angela douglas 19 december 1998

This Prismatic Day

this prismatic day

is spending all its colors in the sky

soon the stars will begin to rise

in my heart-

Crystallize!

etched against my opaque spring

these Waterford poems are

displaying all the fairytale's

facets

mary angela douglas 31 may 2005

I Have Gathered My Snow Apples

I have gathered my snow apples.

I have brought my children home.

I have fastened my doors

 of crystal.

I won't be listening at

your keyhole of stars-

or watching the fires
 across the lake-

signaling ancient distress

mary angela douglas 14 february 1999

Let Us Return To The Country Of Clouds

let us return to the country of clouds I

said to myself when you were gone

as you said, everything is changing

in the clouds. it's always changing

(but not my heart)

in the country of clouds there are kingdoms, cities,

of changeable hues and turrets of cream and towers

of all the angels God ever made, of silken

whiteness guilded with sun-driven colors

in my dream I returned to the country of clouds

finding everything unchanged.

mary angela douglas 8 november 1997

You Must Become A Kingdom That Dissolves

you must become a kingdom that dissolves

whose diamond walls must one day

all come down

but until then. make a

map of another world

with rooms of endless amber

reconceptions-

and pray the ink

does not take

long to dry-

mary angela douglas 21 february 2004/8 august 2007

The World You Were Whirled Away From Will Remain

the world you were whirled away from will remain

even if the ruby shoes wear out and no

yellow path stands open to the sun.

viewed from so far

the world you were whirled away from will seem:

more beautiful still-

even when, arrayed in her silver and rose,

the good witch Glinda fails to show up

with useful benedictions at

the critical moment and you will be

weeping such tears of green-

yet you will hold your jeweled world within

and in your sleep an emerald star will shine

to light the skies you were

torn away from-

mary angela douglas 9 february 2005

The Golden Spindle Lies On The Floor

the golden spindle lies on the floor

where it was flung; whole

civilizations sleep

and now: an old spell is

revisited and ancient lamentations

understood-

up such a narrow flight of

stairs, a broad doom

awaited-

yet I will go from room to

room, seeking lost

kingdoms; enacting-

every possible rose adagio-

mary angela douglas 7 july 2003

We Are All Broken Under Starlight

we are all broken under starlight-

threading ourselves through mazes not

always of our own creation-

or through needles when the thread

knots up and snaps off unexpectedly-

marshaling ourselves with an

ancient carnival soundtrack

against so much indifference;

burning out too early-

rising again in some other sky

where the astronomers will possibly

not be as cruel-

mary angela douglas 18 february 2005

Here In My Rose Window

here in my rose window

in my green cathedral

all my colors burn

even more than Chartres

gleam of all roses here

of tears radiant in

this moment of real

feeling why have you

forsaken my heart's

kaleidoscope

mary angela douglas 1 january 1998

In the Deep Shade Of Luscious Cherry Language

in the deep shade of luscious cherry language

I do not count the missing

I am an angel at

your every doorway

whenever your heart

is torn like paper

wherever you stand

undefended

in the worst part of the fairytale-

mary angela douglas 8 august 2007

EN LA SOMBRA PROFUNDA DE LA LENGUA DE CEREZA DELICIOSA

en la sombra profunda de la lengua de cereza deliciosa

no cuento a los desaparecidos.

soy un angel en su cada puerta

cuando su corazon se desgarra como papel

dondequiera que usted estaria en pie

invicto

en la parta peor de las hadas

mary angela douglas spanish translation of original poem in English
 july 5, 2011

In The Cathedral Of Our Feeling

in the cathedral of our feeling

they have shattered the rose windows

so that real roses weep

even without

dew or rain

because the gargoyles

have come inside

filling the beautiful air with

mere vacuity;

sifting all colors through

a darkening sun.

because they have taken our

purest shadows and

sewn them together so

that we cannot move-

our hearts will launch

into dazzling light

undeterred

mary angela douglas 8 august 2007

STILL IMBUED WITH THE LIVING ROSE

STILL IMBUED WITH THE LIVING ROSE

still imbued with the living rose-

still alive in the shearing wind-

what is broken will not be mended

what is mended will break again-

still imbued with the living rose.

far from all glacial languages-

mary angela douglas april 2001

Not Wanting To Be A

not wanting to be a

finished product-

I stood behind the door

and cried-

where is there left to go

when all homelands are

traded in-

and the dealers shine

like the sun-

into every corner-

mary angela douglas 29 june 1999

Rapunzel

leaning from the tower this time

she would not be disappointed

her hair, brightening like the

sun of all suns in space;

the space around her

intensified

even from Heaven,

preoccupied with so much,

(God)

could not fail to see:

her shining ladder

mary angela douglas 29 january 1999

The Fairytale Deepened

the fairytale deepened

like a color in the sky

like your face half-caught

in a clear crescent of rose.

on the descent of afternoon,

brushing the gold off a butterfly wing,

I turn to revere You:

before night vision impairs me

mary angela douglas 30 july 2001

I Put On My Glittering Dress

I put on my glittering dress

in silence;

only darkness around.

on that planet, all fairytales

are suspect.

 but I was needed:

stooping to pick the

roses in the snow-

to bring on all the

disasters-

mary angela douglas 25 december 1998

Every Page Was Lilac When

every page was lilac when

I started out

stepping onto the fairytale

pavement in the same white dress

from graduation

with thoughts like stars.

everyone said they would all burn out

but I have gone through several

kingdoms now and

this has not come to pass

mary angela douglas 10 july 1999/30 may 2005

Beginning With The Letter "Snow"

who could shape a world like a sigh-

that would be the letter "snow"

so that even in snowless times

you could say the snow-sound

and in an instant see:

glitter snow sift through the

little red village

or wildly whirl through the

tiny firs-

a wish like a glass globe you

shake a little

to set everything

shimmering

mary angela douglas 19 may 2000/1 june 2005

This Is My Matchstick

this is my matchstick

poem with nothing to

strike on.

my fiery dawn of no

fire.

we are born to burn up:

to live our life's fire.

but it's all green

wood here-

this is my matchstick

poem, I will try again-

in the Age of the black sun 

the matchstick girl, in

the end, saw Heaven

all ablaze

mary angela douglas 15 december 1997

Swans' Wings And Other Meanings

swans' wings and other meanings

of the tremulous fairytale's past tense-

of the still-balletic

motions of my heart

seem not to have vanished

in the cream stillness of my

morning room.

but I would know, anyway,

failing these dream-souvenirs

anywhere I was

with You

mary angela douglas 11 june 2001

I Was Wearing A Dress Of Impeachable Hue

I was wearing a dress of impeachable hue

at least, that's what they said.

I thought it was only the color of roses

my slippers fit perfectly,

chiming as only crystal can

the staircase appeared out of

nowhere also made of glass

my heart, surpassing everything.

at the landing,

a kind of eternity

mary angela douglas 29 january 1999

Walking Toward The Square Of Malevich

walking toward the square of Malevich

I bound my hair with constellations

my heart was filled with

thorns

your name wasn't written on

the wind

but it was

it is-

while I stand under the

moon's singed eyebrow

in a circle of

weeping light

mary angela douglas 28 september 2001

I Was Walking In The Snow

I was walking in the snow

of the past, praying to God

for that kind of infinity.

the snow air was chiming

the feathers of angels drifted;

they quelled my heart

I walked so softly

there were no footprints

you almost held my snow-clad hands

and the moon, dipped

in silver, and the

halo of, the rainbow

of, my thoughts-

 were one.

mary angela douglas 4 february 1998

What Is White Poetry

what is white poetry? I

asked you dreamily;

you got irritable

seeing that I was

starting to apply

a meaning that did

not exist. It's

just blank verse

you said concisely

but it was too late

already I was making

it into the poetry

of snow, of frozen

latitudes.

mary angela douglas 1 january 1998

Note on the poem: The phrase for blank verse in the Russian Language means literally "white poetry"

-*(the words in Russian for blank verse mean, literally

translated - white poetry)

Her Dreams Shine Like Water Every Day

her dreams shine like water

every day

poured from a pitcher in a dream

into a waking glass.

and under your pillow

is the golden leaf-

snatched from a tree

at the last bright moment

so you will not forget

where you have been.

her dreams shine like water

and won't be quenched.

and if you handle the sparkling

carafe of this poem,

be careful not to spill one drop

on the carpet of your waking

room.

mary angela douglas 23 november 2005

If Tears Should Fall On The Shining Page

if tears should fall on the shining page

remember that words were not always

wounded.

but keep the goldenness before you

of something not now ascertained-

that is more neglected than

destroyed:

of words resembling flower and flame

of words that could return again-

even if once and future kings-

 delay

mary angela douglas 16 december 2004

Ordination

[after a painting by Van Gogh, "Portrait of Eugene Boch"]

I wasn't ordained to

sleep in your shadow to

be the wheel turning

in your hand, the pure

silver backing of your

heart's mirrored

mirror

but I still shine at your

momentary table,

breathing the flutelike air

between us-

letting the stars upon stars

unfold above your head-

mary angela douglas 13 august 2002

It's Not The Illuminations Over The Palace

it's not the illuminations over the palace-

not the moment's hesitation on the

stairs-

not the dress with its thousand

crystal roses that later will

melt like snow into the air

but something you kept the golden

tree could not shake down-

something that would not be

swept away with the ashes:

full of invisible light-

mary angela douglas 4 october 1999/30 may 2005

The Night Was Starred With Lapis Lazuli

the night was starred with lapis lazuli-

a color from Giotto's frescoes

imported long ago from

Afghanistan-

a long time ago

the heart was open

as the open sky:

the dream of love spun

blue as the immensities

but we have wandered under such dark stars

and torn our souls out in

merciless kingdoms

reputed to be kind

now all color is washed from the skies

the nightingale's pain will

crystallize in vain

when frescoes from our ruined

imaginations

bear the result-

mary angela douglas 19 september 2001

There Is No Madrigal

there is no madrigal

for this, sad nightingale

in my heart.

there is no Emperor

(but there was).

there is no Death

harrowing his

songless heart-

not even the

silly jeweled bird remained-

surrounded by flocking

courtiers.

but caught in my heart's

hedges a bird sings

all night long

of the place where

they once were-

mary angela douglas 18 december 1997/3 august 2007

My Die-cut Snowflake Sorrow

my die-cut snowflake sorrow,

who is not riding herd

on you

in this perfunctory rodeo?

even so-

these crystals will elude,

unharnassed through the

fragile forfeitures

of God

mary angela douglas 29 october 2004

It Sometimes Seems To Me

it sometimes seems to me

these trembling nativities

never were

but every star is illuminating

when you are standing under Heaven

and holding the crystal count to

the note that still must be

sustained-

mary angela douglas 2004

Oh How Could The Stars Be

oh how could the stars be

so brittle

and how could my heel tear

like the skin of a flower

when I turned to go?

the moon was seen

through other people's windows:

none of them, my heart-

yet something radiant,

lucent as beauty itself -

shone through:

an irremediable darkness

mary angela douglas 3 may 2005

Losing The Emerald Way Again (Psalm)

losing the emerald way again

I do not dream of You

but I am the dream You

are in.

I am the landscape only

holding your shadow like

a star

and the trace of a yellow

road

mary angela douglas 1 october 2007/rev. 6 february 2010

Here Is My Signature On Snow

here is my signature on snow

here is my breath on no one's

windowpane

but yours

here is the pure, unfettered

dream of all dreams

in which

I only sit beside You

mary angela douglas 29 may 2000

My Ship Seems Lost At Sea

my ship seems lost at sea

and you will not bring me

the first rose on your return

or the last branch to brush

your forehead as you passed.

though I would have cherished

more than light

the least thing in your vicinity

how can I be

the first living thing that

runs to you

dearly loved to be

bartered tomorrow

when the ogre comes to

claim his due-

when my heart is a clock

that cannot be wound

and which is

so far out of the fairytale's frame now,

running down?

may the quicksilver bright

words of God be said

lest snake-bitten moments

coil round our stars-

mary angela douglas 1 august 2007