XXVII. TO ARTEMIS (22 lines)

(ll. 1-20) I sing of Artemis, whose shafts are of gold, who
cheers on the hounds, the pure maiden, shooter of stags, who
delights in archery, own sister to Apollo with the golden sword.
Over the shadowy hills and windy peaks she draws her golden bow,
rejoicing in the chase, and sends out grievous shafts.  The tops
of the high mountains tremble and the tangled wood echoes
awesomely with the outcry of beasts: earthquakes and the sea also
where fishes shoal.  But the goddess with a bold heart turns
every way destroying the race of wild beasts: and when she is
satisfied and has cheered her heart, this huntress who delights
in arrows slackens her supple bow and goes to the great house of
her dear brother Phoebus Apollo, to the rich land of Delphi,
there to order the lovely dance of the Muses and Graces.  There
she hangs up her curved bow and her arrows, and heads and leads
the dances, gracefully arrayed, while all they utter their
heavenly voice, singing how neat-ankled Leto bare children
supreme among the immortals both in thought and in deed.

(ll. 21-22) Hail to you, children of Zeus and rich-haired Leto!
And now I will remember you and another song also.

Brilliant, this day – a young virtuoso of a day.
Morning shadow cut by sharpest scissors,
deft hands. And every prodigy of green –
whether it's ferns or lichens or needles
or impatient points of buds on spindly bushes –
greener than ever before. And the way the conifers
hold new cones to the light for the blessing,
a festive right, and sing the oceanic chant the wind
transcribes for them!
A day that shines in the cold
like a first-prize brass band swinging along
the street
of a coal-dusty village, wholly at odds
with the claims of reasonable gloom.

If love can be withdrawn
It never was

My love for you is not a gift
    To you
      It is a gift
        To me

You sit here awake,
wondering what went wrong,
and this is to much pain to take,
It's not a physical scar,
no,

Shaken,
The blossoms of lilac,
     And shattered,
The atoms of purple.
Green dip the leaves,
     Darker the bark,
Longer the shadows.

Sheer lines of poplar
Shimmer with masses of silver
And down in a garden old with years
And broken walls of ruin and story,
Roses rise with red rain-memories.
          May!
     In the open world
The sun comes and finds your face,
     Remembering all.

I heard your voice with the setting sun
I answered back but
There was
No one
Waiting for me too

I saw the world
When I was
Next to you
Eyes filled
With
red glass
like the smoke
You too, will soon pass

I felt your face
In the rising moon
Over the mountains
It came
Too soon
Cigarette and a glass of wine
Collectively
Swallow,
inhale,
The time
Because you too
Will soon pass

Nights intoxicated
with Stars and
Bottles
The faces are content
But their minds
Are startled
Shown the path
But never the Way

That doesn't matter
Now
We’ll breathe the same air
And I’ll never forget
The smell,
The touch,
Your hair,
We shared the earth
For as long as
We could
For whatever its worth
Under this sky
Together
We've stood
And you too,
Will soon pass.

In sorrows' garden,
Out of clear blue sky— omen,
Small floating feather.