HAROLD BLOOM'S CANNON

Is there any more room
in Harold Bloom's cannon
from a bold pantheon
of Milton, Dickens
and Dickinson
or having their own champion
like in a song of Campion
all sensing they are a conduit
for the divine as a poet
even if they do not believe
like Chesterton
in the Word's highest power,
they loose a partisan attitude
in their best invention's hour
being fit in their literary mode
of their wronged convention
sharing at least a Party's ode
on their own code's pretension
of an arbitrary mode
that would eventually flower
from their own sex or sects
by an arty sectarian guest
reading for a librarian's hour.

WHISPERS

Whispers cannot be heard
by those in authorities
who identify you
as biding like a song bird
in harbored secret words
hung on your cage
needing to be set free
at your young age
reassured only in shadows
to those who must murmur
by the emperor's clothes
and blinded by a lonely stare,
yet soon we will get our feet
wet in the afternoon rain
and able to laugh and sing
for it is only just and fair
to escape our nest, lair or bed
to rest under the sun
and share our bread.

NEPAL, April 26,2015

As if mountains fall
when the earth shakes
over Nepal
as one wakes again
and all life will stall
in the fountains of rain
and for a time breaks all.

MARIE PONSOT'S LECTURE

Unique understanding
of John Donne
where body,soul ,spirit
shares as one
with the metaphysical Word
as a bird watcher
catches the sun
leaning on an Elm
in the April's spring air.

ITALIAN LIBERATION DAY

Partisan resistance
realizing what fascism does
your small bands who fought
brought honor and buzz
from your hands and cause
and taught us
seventy five years ago
that one must disobey
all of racism's laws,
as you know.

WHERE THE LIVING ARE

Where the living are
in the death March
yet it is now April
and we choose life
at this moment
with love feeling fragile
and vulnerable
as stones tossed
into the Bay
from my outstretched hand
as a prayer
on days of gratitude
send us your rhythm
of a grateful beatitude
on mountains of transfiguration
renew our siren of creation
to the frenzied open heaven
of warring angels,
save us in song
on your Christ eyelids
hidden in the Word
from your world
of mercy.

YOU REVISIT

You revisit
your life
while you cling
to photos,
images
while spring cleaning
on edgy mornings
asking for a merciful sky
without forty years more
of rain or transferable darkness
whispering to yourself
hows many words
voices, shadows,
palms of snow flakes
are our unlocked thoughts
Freudian questions
Jungian answers
at the end of the age
time is always on the wind
no hour fails
at crucifixion at three O clock
your people still suffer
the arrows of St. Sebastian
feeling forsaken
with a strip of sun
to satisfy
your covenant with us.