From the Archive: Holy Sonnets I-II

I.

My metered speech, exalted language –

O yes there is a scheme to poetry.

My mundane words enshroud the lotus tree

And sound of beauty high transcend the page

And music what we hear & vision see

And manifest the cosmos with to be.

But no there is no way to hide my face

Exclusively in unseen silent realms:

Try as I might my ideal concepts lace

Themselves in woman’s eyes & outward imagery

That ecchoes in your rural pen & see

My grace immortal in all art’s embrace.

I speak of everything & all exists,

For thru my sustenance the earth subsists.

II.

My words are music & my thought is food.

I nourish all the cosmos with my pen,

And from it dust from dust will rise again.

All your reflections of my face are good.

My images are bread from which you live.

My outward nourishment permeates in.

The cycles that you breath & eat begin

When one intakes & I that apple give.

O must you woman mourn over your pangs

& you usurping king control our deaths?

No you will never take your feard last breaths,

For from a tree the fire stealer hangs.

My knowledge from the branch is what one eats

And art th’ imagination excretes.