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

My Soul Is A Traceless Wound

my soul is a traceless wound

a bruising of stars

a trial with no witnesses

a tree of clouds where birds

are singing cloudless songs

a shade drawn against the sun

a fire stung by air

a rift within an

imaginary family

a sadness of inquisitions

no broken thread of remembrance floating

on the beautiful finger of God-

mary angela douglas 24 december 2003

copyright 2006

THE DOCUMENTS THE QUEEN MUST NEVER SEE

THE DOCUMENTS THE QUEEN MUST NEVER SEE

["Je te defendrai a la derniere carriere."*

-Mary, Queen of Scots]

the documents the queen must never see

are locked inside a cloud that

cannot weep

and it will take too long to

cast off the embroidery

that could have caused true

rescuers to come

not many ivory ships

will sail until:

you waken, foundered,

in a green wood

and witnesses are called

who have no voice-

a shimmering rush of wings:

the tongue-cut sparrows

lace the sky

lace the sky

with warnings bright as tromp l'oeil patterns

through the window of

the last cell

mary angela douglas 2 november 2005/10 november 2005

copyright 2006

*"I shall defend Thee while I still draw air."

I Dreamed I Saw the Libraries Of Heaven

"E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle."*

-Dante

I dreamed I saw the libraries of Heaven

and many books were there

that never saw the light of day on

earth-

and there were no sentinels at the door:

and in the air, something like flowers

and when you turned the page,

fresh meadows, endless hues-

and in a corner resplendent with light

and no newspapers-

you were reading by heart

and could not die-

mary angela douglas 13 may 2005

copyright 2006

*"and we walked out once more beneath the stars."

from Dante's Inferno, Canto 34 (when the poets emerge from hell)

I Draw My Heart Into A Sieve

I draw my heart into a sieve

of words-

my soul blisters and is not

contained-

my love is a flood of birds

but the flight patterns

make no sense-

my love tears on the eggshell wind

but the wind is gone

unsequestered in anyone's fairytale

my words, my heart, my life

I would place at your

feet-

but you are standing on the sun-

m. angela douglas 18 november 2001

copyright 2006

I Am The Tree Of White

["Why then, will we not turn our eyes toward the stars? Why?"

-Mikhail Bulgakov The White Guard]

I am the tree of white

and the petals that float to earth

with music on every page

unending-

at the heart of the rose is

a white word: a drift of

near-silence

and irrevocable solace

beyond flowering,

rimmed with light: at

times, overflowing-

living, living as this

branch of blossoming words

I am

commending the stars to earth

and hoping you will remember

mary angela douglas 20 march 2005

copyright 2006

I Am Sending This Flare Up, Oh

I am sending this flare up, oh

king of my distress

the messengers have no message

but their circuits are endless

not on any map can the nightingale be

found now

and the Emperor is dying

mary angela douglas 29 january 1999

copyright 2006

Here Is The Watermark

here is the watermark

I promised

will you hold it to

the light to know

it's real, will

you

hold the imprint

that can't be

reasoned out

or converted to

any other faith?

mary angela douglas 29 january 1999

Fra Angelico On The Green

Fra Angelico, on the green

and foaming waters I have

reverted to

such stillness-

enfolded in your rose

on a raft like a

Christmas postage stamp

in this glistening yet

starless hour;

in a harbor I can

never ascertain-

mary angela douglas 31 may 2005

copyright 2006

For The Light Of Your Palms

for the light of your palms

it seemed that I crossed mountains

sometimes in a dream;

sometimes awake

only visible to me: the incontrovertible

the wounded and the

clear

(not the sun or the moon)

but a universe bordering,

my own

mary angela douglas 23 june 2001

copyright 2006

In A Dream Of White Lead

in a dream of white lead

I heard the word

"Mayakovsky"!

you said that dream

should come to you, not me,

but can dreams be chosen?

later I dreamed that Joseph Brodsky

returned to his first

New York apartment

one week after his death,

stunned by the vacancy.

and in next year's ochre-lighted dream,

to a furnished one, complete

with friends and reviewers:

smiling, in a light apart

at their consternation,

serene

as once he stood before

Soviet tribunals so

clearly, tenderly, ironically

"decided by God"

mary angela douglas 30 september 2000/31 may 2005

copyright 2006

If I Tremble Like Glass

if I tremble like glass

before the sky of dreams,

still, that is music.

and if the angel of snow

on my left or my right

no longer upholds me,

still, my heart will not

stop bearing light or

shining

mary angela douglas 21 november 2000

FOR RUSSIA

FOR RUSSIA

[in memorium, Mary Adalyn Young-Douglas]

your terrible snows cannot conceal it:

all you have lost.

though it should snow forever, piling

lace on lace and pearl on pearl

in the sheer dream of your

interminable ballet.

your official icons privately weep;

does your heart sleep under the snow, my princess?

the rainbow of your dissidence appears and disappears.

it isn't magic: your multinationals cut down

like grain, star after star in the fading darkness.

then.the pale famine of renewed terror.

You! my martyred fairytale! could I reach

you through the agitprop

can I find your smile, my dispossessed

I carry white flowers in the swirling snow

to match the exquisite blankness of your soul.

the frozen curve of your "mier".

to be free you must take your

heart and hurl it at the moon; to be free you must be

anywhere else in the world,

but Russia.

how I would like to forget everything I don't know about you.

but your samizdat is clouding my heart,

your uncensored dream...

your God won't stop anointing me

when I long for your spring and the

bells in Kiev.

mary angela douglas 17 january 1986

At The Foot Of Your Golden Mountain

at the foot of your golden mountain

never seen:

I cried

turning in this

crevasse of rose

I don't know how to be

and the mists roll down

so easily, enclosing me

how can a living heart

be hidden-

and all their snow redactions seem

so signed off on?

like a prayer flag in a blizzard

of misconstrued intentions-

someone else's version of events

my heart my heart my

helplessness before you-

mary angela dougloas 5-7 april 2002/31 may 2005/30 august 2003/31 august 2010

Angels Of Flame Were Bending

angels of flame were bending

over the child of desolation,

over the disgraced and

reprimanded.

new chapters could now

be written:

the raven days precluded

all but your wanderers'

dream;

authorities ruled as if

the stars could be struck down

mary angela douglas 8 february 2001

All These Momentary Stays Of Execution

all these momentary stays of execution

under the flocks of

receding stars-

and the sun is

eclipsed indefinitely

and the pores of the soul

are magnified

but anyway, we have

already flown this

kingdom of petty

mysteries

since everywhere there are

random incisions that can

always be justified

and the world stage is darkened when

the actors cannot

improvise-

mary angela douglas 12 july 2004

All Their Flags Have Fallen

all their flags have fallen

still, in my heart,

another country rises

under a sky unknown

all their causes cannot

be espoused-

but I am enhanced by a

silence more true-

but I am a tree with

roots of gold-

mary angela douglas 25 june 2000

All the Hidden Names Of The Sky

I was counting over

all the hidden names of the sky:

I have no patronym.

icon makers are leaving me

their shreds of beaten gold;

they will not note the

elongations

of my living soul

mary angela douglas 20 june 2001

copyright 2006

My Castles Are Buried in Snow

my castles are buried in snow

and clouds of opal float over

no banner raised

and all this is just

chalk on white jade:

I cannot write my heart-

mary angela douglas 25 april 2005