Working late on a May night in England

tonight I code In Parenthesis
a step closer to my viva, my defence:

green for the trees of Mametz
green for the broken wood
green for soldier saplings
the bower, the Acorn-Sprite
then pink for Dai's curse,

pink for the liturgy of the battalion,
pink for the Hours, pink
the Queen of the Woods
who feeds them white berries
on the twelfth day of the Somme.

the window in my office is open,
almost dusk, the trees are in flower,
robins, chaffinches are quiet,
but from the chapel I hear Angles
sing their heart-shaped notes
are rose petals.

juggling juggling

hi fellow poets, I just thought I'd tell you where I am other than PhD-land… I'm lead on this major First World War commemorative project, The Long Goodbye: a conversation across a century.  I am inviting you to contribute if you wish.  Here is a link to The Long Goodbye and we're also on FB: https://www.facebook.com/thelonggoodbye?fref=nf

hope you don't mind my digression, but I thought you'd appreciate knowing and I hope you'll participate!

millefiore 8

roses of May
fuchsia peonies
the tender scent

millefiore 8

into the land it takes
great courage, great courage
for you to love, again

millefiore 8

what if I told you
what if I told you each
what if I told you each little
what if I told you each little flower
what if I told you each little flower cast
what if I told you each little flower cast glass
was
his
kiss

here
here
here

here.

millefiore 7

each time, each precious
centre, a little storm
hot, white, fire, burst

millefiore 6

molten violets, new May
the centre of soft,
so soft, clean, brilliance

millefiore 5

hiss gas,
white hot blooms,
selenium, gold,
cranberry glass

millefiore 4

forget-me-not little
butter-eye, little shoo-
fly violet sky, mm yes!

millefiore 3

inside the crystal hive
the bee, the hummingbird
the lilac tree

millefiore 2

a thousand little flowers glass
spun, craft, kisses of light, kisses
of heat, white, cobalt, forest, cane

mille fiore

the grain of sand, the grain of glass

mille fiore, the blossom of light

the blossom of white, hot furnace

duende 1

it is late September. there is a bridge. half-moon slippery woods. rain. the faces of two. look down into water. lilies. Lost Lagoon. surfaced, a Seurat, with tiny green points. exquisite, O painter who makes this. perfection. look down into water. see. two faces stare back. nineteen again. when first he said, "I love you". but then. when she had been. too young. to hear. him. future. looked away.  now September is blowing tiny wavelets. fresh water stirred mud. September. decades cool as west coast mist. on her face. on a Japanese bridge she. he. clean. new. look down. beneath the surface. the last silvery fish of summer. look up. look up. the taste of autumn. the taste of love seasoned. the taste of another. first kiss.

the day of the dead

this is the day of the dead
each night when you come to me
a blood rite and bells, bells
that toll for me, for thee, O

we in our bed high
above sirens' needled streets,
make soft life as, o God,
o love, you enter.

the first

the first is water, clear
u nearer, nearer, near
showered, so clean, I
hear your bare feet
pad across the floor,
sweet footstep sounds
down the stairs to my bed.

the second is heat, of you
in sheets, your tallness
stretched slender body
your febrility (how,
how can such a strong
man have such soft,
warm skin?) we pull
the world of all lovers within.

the third is water, clear
u near, near, nearer still
libation to all gods
the holy site of lips
in this, in this, hosanna
blessings of our bodies
the holy site of the dead
first the kiss, then this
O yes. yes. love. this is.

hello bonjour mes amis my friends

oh em gee oh em gee I was so afraid I could not return this year and this would be, would be, as if a snow goose could never again see the, well, the snow!  o my beloved country. o my beloved poets. words shall trickle, spill, then hopefully delight, or at least make light of this overworked predicament called me!

seriously tho … I am in my final year of my PhD in England. I am doing way too much, writing not enough of the good stuff (as if that makes me any different than anyone else), so I am delighted to be once again a part of MAY DAY!

I want to continue where I left off (I think). I want to leave war and embed, if that's the word, in my next big idea.

we shall see … in any case, thank you in advance for helping me write… merci, merci

SMSteele