Theodore Enslin
(John Phillps, photo)
Night Study
Moon sickle above under
brush where it always was
crumble in flames of echo
where it always was in
clouds of a last reflection
sound only mouse footfall
silence dark depth to plumb
onshore of little breeze
no wavelength light to touch
as phosphorous fish scale
light poured into shadow
no live thing remaining
spindrift footstep in it
sickle moon it dies away.
As if there were time enough to notice
that stones will polish in the wind
or that's an accident of speech
where happening has nothing to do
with thought the laggard as it always was
but still the rock face brightness
while sand will sink away from it.
What is wild in our own day
is not the wild that's past
there is a different savor
some of it not pleasant
perhaps it never was
but it differs now
does not depend on distances
as it once did now
the wildness is within us
trying to get out
one day it may but without us.
To put life or fire into a word?
No those were always there
but the use of many words
will often bring what was there
incipient to ruin take care
how you hold what has a heat that
may crumble into ashes.
A ring of changes
bells and circles
something round around us
changes in a measure
a breath so changed
rings these changes
becomes the circled ring.
Hermit Thrush
The singing's always new
the melody is old or not
usually it is where
nothing new to sing or say
or sing when saying's not enough
or gives new voice(s)
Listen to the solitary thrush
his heritage is full of sound
much of it what's not known.
A Tentative Tribute to C.C.
From such a language
as no words can say
without the wording
it leaves me breathless.
Twelve Gates to the City
I do not know your entrance
nor would you care for mine
there are many others but
once we are inside we will meet
and recognize each other
we came our different ways
what a pleasure we are here together.
Moon Phase
We do not think too often
of the moon's light in the lilacs
too often looking at it turning
Midas' touch to curse it's in remembrance
once we see that light and all around it
blooms the fading petals in that light
the fading of reflection light
that was a stranger to the moon
and darkly strange to lilacs as they slept.
Goodbye to all that world
where we once talked
as if there were no end
to it yet went on further
to fall off even from a globe
held sure by gravity
It is here and not here
a way to walk and say goodbye.
—————————————
THEODORE ENSLIN
To An Unknown Shore
Shearsman Books, 2017
