No Good

My sweet colleen.
My little, little girl.

Do you suppose that I would let you cry
if I could comfort you?

Oh! How you sob and shudder, little girl!

I'll tell you this:
what's lost is sometimes found again.
It is!

I know,
that's nothing now.
But later on --

Colleen, colleen,
my angel, please don't cry.

(Cypress Boat)

Lie!

I need a story.
Tell it to me, quick.

Do you not see?

My heart is not a mirror.
How can I compass all these particles?
Do you suppose that I can draw them in,
and sensibly reflect the way they look?

I need a legend.
I must have a tale.

I want it gaunt and speedy,
so thin the wind can whistle through its bones,
so spare the shadows cannot cling beside
the sharp-marked edges of its easy shape.

Please,

the dazzle hurts me.

please, please:
I need a lie.

Japan

Soft, now.
Living company,
be still.

Let us press
as flat as shadows;
Let us take no space.

Let us be dim and muted,
dumb as tombs.

No space, no light, no sound.

For we will not engage
another atom of this breathing world
till we have said farewell.

Quiet,
living company,
be still.

Continue

Calme-toi,
ma biche, ma biche.
Be still,
my doe.

Resign.
That’s all you have to do:
lie back; endure.

The blood –
don’t let it frighten you.
There is no need.

That’s right:
your blood knows how to flow
and how to stop.

The sick --
yes, sometimes we reject.
But that will pass.

The tears –
you feel them shatter. But
you are still whole.

Calme-toi,
ma biche, ma biche.
Be still,
my doe.

Roel

So, this is how
the morning light explodes:
there is no color
like that light
when it glances
on your forearm
as you wake.

Girl at the Head of the Stairs

Sun through the stair window.
The girl’s long hair --
not brown,
not red,
a young color.

Blue jeans;
a scoop-necked top,
dark rose;
face raised to the beams;
a flawless throat.

He looks at her, enjoys.
She notices.
But that is all:
they are both
satisfied.

Kitten and Branches

Kitten upset the
pussywillow. Frightened: first
the crash, then scolding.