The fall book tour was good, it was very good, and on its heels came a flight to New York City, and after that pneumonia, and on pneumonia’s heels came Christmas, and after that the polar vortex and after that, well, here we are in the midst of a new vortex–yes? Such is life.
I am posting this poem as placeholder, to keep the blog here current. I am in the midst of new poems, a new book, and new submissions, but for now, I offer this, “A Thousand Rumis,” and the blue-white sparkle of sunlight on snow. It’s from my last book, page 29, and remember you can still buy that here or, if you must, here. And it would be just lovely of you to review it here.
A Thousand Rumis
The blue-white sparkle of sunlight
on snow—it’s like that. Too much
to take in, too achingly beautiful.
Like starlight: sharp. You shield your eyes
against what is most wonderful
hide from what hurts. It all hurts.
Better to be blind, and deaf
and dumb to it all. No hands
no face, no way to love.
Still, stumps and wounds, weary
you would take in more than
a thousand Rumis could sing in chorus
need to protect yourself from the wonder
of so much beauty in this lost world.
I’m sorry, and sorry, and sorry
for what you must bear, and still
there is this: you must.