» Featured Poems

Resurrection

Rastaban — Sat, 10 Jun 2006 23:20:19 +0000

The first Sunday
after the first full moon
after the first equinox of the year,
rise early and lean outside
in the spiced air, listen to the bells ringing.
Morning bells, bells
of the far churches
chuckling their delight for the advent of another spring
in a world that has dawned.

Easter
and already the snows have grown weary;
they drop their coats
and troop back into the darkness.
Already the gale, brabbling wind
discards his piercing shrillness
and his iciness;
he bounds forward on us warm and naked.
Already the distant sun, long aloof
forgets herself,
wanders our way, smiling broadly.
Already the crocuses and daffodils,
the jonquils, the dogwoods, the wisteria, even the white iris
alone in the field by my house,
cast off their shyness; vulnerably
expose themselves before the world,
unprotected and beautiful.

And it is spring. It is spring.
I look beyond the empty lot, out past
the steeples that stand like toys on the far street; suddenly
I see earth supple before me like a gardener
like a mother suckling rich seedmouths

and they spring up.

They spring up, they spring up
in eudicotyledon splendor of living,
resurrected in body once again.

Jenny’s Wind

Rastaban — Sat, 10 Jun 2006 13:53:18 +0000

Jenny would love this gusty wind
were she with me here to see it playing
in these tall oak and birch she knows so well.

Yes, Jenny
would love this gutty wind which sneaks
beneath the leaves, rustling them

until they waken. The breeze
pretends it’s morning still
pretends it doesn’t know about the dark
the silence
which has swept across the world

since yesterday.

The wind is trying harder now.
Relentlessly it tries
to sweep the leaves and branches

into some sort of playful mood
some whim
to rouse them from the death-like mourning
of their silence.

Now and then
it pauses haltingly a moment. Then

rampages
rampaging
as if to chase away the darkness

as if to quell
the soundless whelming of her death
before it blackens out September.

Lake

Rastaban — Sat, 19 Feb 2005 14:42:04 +0000

the slim dark flower
i saw this morning
while walking beside
a lake i’d seen
for only an hour

pressed without warning
deep inside
and made me dream

of her lips’ sweet power

Summer Love

Rastaban — Fri, 10 Oct 2003 14:36:24 +0000

Now winter’s come
I like to hum
and sometimes sing a tune

To bring to me
memories
of times we had last June

When I gave you
some summer love
beneath the night’s white moon

Recall we were
beside the shore—
a woman, and a man

Who held her firmly
next to him
on blankets made of sand

Your eyes on mine
were soft and kind
as you pressed against my hips

And the stars above
bright with love
as we tasted with our lips

The waves rolled in
and in the din
we danced a while

Afterwards
we had no words
but silence and a smile

As eye to eye
beneath the sky
we shed our clothes and hugged

Our bodies stark
in the dark
nakedly we loved

The morning smiled
on clothing piled
aside our makeshift bed

And was no talk—

I’ve often thought
of things I might have said

While rapt amazed
I gazed
at the woman I should wed

But now like summer
you are gone—
my winter lingers on

And midnight brings
a pain to things
my heart has felt too long