Monday, April 6, 2009

No Return, Making Love

Here are the end and the beginning. With the beginning is the ecstatic. With the beginning is the presence of God. But at the end, at this end, there is nothing but the remains, the shards and the fusion of memories into the slag of dullness and loss. The first poem was written late in the day on 22 Dec. The second poem was written at noontime on the 23rd. In the background, my work is coming to an end for the year and perhaps longer. It turned out that my dry spell lasted until the end of February but I never know how long these things will last.

No Return

I look out on glass,
Miles, glass molten, then frozen
Seas, glass left behind
After the hot white blast,
The wind and black thunderclap
Of hopeless despair,
Of me losing you,
Of you looking back blindly
After seeing this day.


Making Love

Purity and Peace
Made sweet love in the garden.
Purity withdrew.
Gravid Peace gave birth.
The babies lay in the stream,
The stars awakened,
Kissed the babes awake,
And the world sang a new song.

What of you and me?


  1. These are very beautiful Christopher

  2. Sing a new song...I like this one and enjoy the images of the garden.
    All the best. LL

  3. Michelle, I hope you are doing well and your recent challenges are easing off.

    Linda, thanks for saying so.

    Lorenzo, thank you for coming by and leaving your comment. I think poetry is an art of the spoken word more than a sculpture on a page, though I have seen that work well too. Just my opinion.

  4. Heavy words, then light. Balance?

  5. Rachel, I try to discern from this place what I was doing in that one. There is a sleep period in between the poems and I am pretty sure this was the big snow storm in Portland. It took me out of my work, stranded because PDX has no equipment for this big a storm and neither do we. I dug my driveway out bit could not take my car anywhere beyond the few feet of my driveway. I began idle time until the end of February, but that was because we ran out of work too.

    If I was trying for balance, then it was unconscious. It is more like my mood swings. I see things to write out of my feelings, I am sure.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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