Industrial Park, February
Who divided the day into shifts?
Monks did it, somewhere in Europe
before there was steel. Buttresses flew
the body wanted to
but the alloy of soul
is hard:
something in Aristotle told them
natural place seeks natural motion
so turbines spin
cooling the womanish
coils into planes
the angles of men
making metal and words
like american to go everywhere
the body stays
this place the heart rings
its factory bell
finding the act beautiful enough
-------------------------------------------
Angel / Angle
To the tangled planes of hereafter
constant virtue carries you,
the fixed point where angels
like angles are made
if the body is miraculous
keeping its geometry,
aching space generated by your
constant velocity
the body, as we know, is all angles:
to the body belongs
joy of measure
of which a measure of joy
perfumes the dirt with which angels
would seraphically fill
their hands if they had not lost
the elaborate world.
Two wonderful poems Ashley. It is SpeedPoets today, so was thinking of you back at home this morning. Am so glad you have started this blog as it is lovely to be able to check in. Hope life is good, G
ReplyDeleteThanks for the kind words, Graham. Yes, it's been a month already since my wonderful visit--isn't today's Speedpoets the Open Mic Championships? That sounds so fun.
ReplyDeleteI too am glad to have begun this blog. It's a bit hard for me, but good for me as well.