I posted this on my type-pad blog but the font kept coming out funky, so I am attempting it here to see if it is more visually appealing.
I am falling in deep love with Denise Levertov, chosen for more reasons than I can count. This first patch work was almost too easy.
She is that good, it all works. It all works.
The first collection of hers I bought was her last collection, a compilation of poems found neatly typed and compiled in a binder. I loved that I can see her last poem.
My fervent wish is when I die, some one is delighted to see, to experience, to know my last poem, too.
This poem is a patchwork of the following poems:
Looking, Walking, Being
From the Roof
On a Theme by Thomas Merton
Talking to Grief
Looking's a way of being: one becomes.
You long for your real place to be readied
palpate darkness, the void
hidden river, who can say which it is we see, we see
This wild night, gathering the washing as if it were flowers
Fragmented Adam stares.
sometimes, a pair of eyes walking
walking in the dark and the wind over broken earth
You think I don't know you've been living -
You are not present to yourself. God
I should trust you.
My arms full of playful rebellious linen, a freighter
Breathing to sustain
I recall out of my joy a night of misery
And language? Rhythms
suffers the void that is his absence