NEW BOOKS ARE ALL THE TIME ARRIVING
I just stood a small bunch up on the porch stairs, and since we are outdoors and working in the weather, do squint close to see with me:
The starlings are singing!
You could call it singing.
At any rate, they are starlings.
My muse plays tennis
and has a body like a Greek god.
My muse wears glasses
and looks swell in them.
I could go on like this forever.
James Schuyler, Other Flowers (Farrar)
Verses from a HYAKUIN RENGA
A whole year's passed —
he fetches down the elk skull,
aspen leaves shaking
Julie Johnstone's ever quiet and elegant publications from Essence Press.
Ink on paper
1 or 250.
IN A DOORWAY
How far a page stretches in autumn-
Treetops, hills, sky.
I hold what unfolds: leaves'
Cascading violins, some implications
Of arrival that contaminate the day.
Wind proposes another dance:
Siestas, melancholic afternoons,
Patterns contained within the steps
My feet make pausing as the evening
Star bares her breast and sky diminishes.
Like a Shaker bowl
the house contains the silence
of belief, and
like a Navajo basket
containing none of our business
it is keeping quiet,
deathly still, in fact,
about God's plans.