Due North

Due North Poetry and Art Chapbook for Creative & Teaching Writing-Radford University with Professors Elizabeth A. Poe & A. Bromley Spring 1992/Autumn 1993 projectendofdays.blogspot.com/2023/05/due-north.html Due North @ Amazon

Poemsas faces or religionspander as you wishyour wishthis dull round removed.Trees of light, the golden ones are given summers mute freedom to move asunderWords stumblng around naked like winos on a Saturday eveninghotels, the weigh station, the sacred ritualsOur candle burn summers of warm embracing waiting waiting waiting

For whom does it have meaning?

We throw into nightshades the unthrown

There can be no others a journey downward leads you toward the truth. Fragments of solitude, the pain is proof enough for the inquisitions test of us --
All of you children of love come forward We are leading the march to the north, This resolution a flagrant flower amid the chaos of winter storm Come with us now, we of the rosary night removed are calling you

Tangled, black branches meet and linger in rare splendor, A propaganda canvas sky sinks to behold the rising dream This dream of words, the new dream has always been within us, reaching through the darkness of night, Strange is this mute tangled connectedness which has captured infinity
An odd, beckoning gesture unfolds to touch the depth of our desires' brilliance

You who have known Sylvantine pleasures, To you the capturing of souls becomes the rhythmic game, In secret minds and beds our sordid and tragic drama is sold again, This ancient magic eludes to an eternal consciousness, the blood red ribbon unfolds and the untold becomes the tale, running gale force mystery, A coventry of love and hates illusion... The poet intrudes upon this warm perfumed palace alone, and without the rhythmic grace of sex magic
Alone, in question, the thief stops and smiling at the strange guards, recognizes the lords of the life procession beginning to fall

There is no other.... What is this other withinor about me?

Where are the guilty gods

Stranded w/in the mute

Forest of assassination?

Show me the great northern cities again.

the hustling women

those well lit avenues shine into

neon nothing, light of noon trance,

the game or dance, a procession

of haunting love remembered

for the sake of everything

of and in all things. --

a city spire reaches true

sky of silverfish elegance

A woman screams

as we turn the

next corner..

I'd like a flowery summit

of harem knowledge

a blessing or gift-

And when it is with me, when the

wandering laughter sings

in my ear like a secret angel,

a thousand stars converge

into nova brilliance

staring white hot into the black

a rose

unfolds into

sanctimonious revenge

____________________________________________________

Come forward, we suspended,

come alone into the night try

Phone calls to broken hearts

the shadows of desire

turn in black pillars

of silent suffering,

love, my love is a fire brand,

White hot steel inside my

skull

My god where is the wisdom of the hours?

Black towers fall

bright orange,

burning illusion is

this intrusion of dark truth

upon a lonely Saturday evening

Lovers embrace around firelight

a mourning side of

confusion

followed by the silent sky's

awakening

lovers and takers become

similar children

hovering between shadows

toward noon sun summer parade

Houses are burning

hopes and faces

turn toward the black sky

Yet there can be

no

providence

found

For the disguise has finally languished,

the war is over,

and each instant shakes beneath

this unbridled truth,

A golden proof of two faces ignited,

together they meet in the rampant sky,

Turn, turn and face the lie

Someone, a thing is feeding us

words or transgressions,

the altar w/ wine,

snatched photo glance,

in a trance you are revealed to me

Eyes of love's fire stare through

the Sunday vision

This meeting of intuition

a resurrection claimed

by green truth

We are proof of this existence,

Winners and losers of this gambling chaos removed,

Sacred children of the hidden light turn again

and are redeemed on this night,

They cry and swoon through to the

Solstice dawn of blood tide,

Everything now dead and graceful,

All things converge into one instant of

languid space....

I touched the master's hand,

my hand,

shaking with intolerable sorrow,

I caressed the eaves of nothingness