Winter on the Cape

Well, we've come through the second snowstorm in as many weeks, but the Cape's moderating weather has saved us again: instead of thundersnow and eight inches of the white stuff, we had mostly rain, high winds, and then an additional three inches of snow. Not too bad. I have been spending my time preparing to teach, reading student homeworks (magnificent pieces of work...) and preparing my new book of poetry. Let's see if I can paste a poem from the new book here:

Angelus

We are ourselves,

sun and moon,

an encyclopedia of taverns,

crevasses, moonridges, craters,

places to hide, nostalgic turns

of event, hardpressed to understand

what is happening to us. We are

walking down the years, catching

them as they stream before us,

herds of time, looping them

with seasons, capturing calendars

so that we can live, God help us.

We see ourselves made, by brass

and tubing, we drip down the

skeleton and gather ourselves

again nearer the earth,

almost done. What has this

life done for me? Filled with

rocks in the belly, it has driven

me harshly, made me hold hands,

broke my hands, tied them down,

set them free, taken antagonist

air and supplied centuries instead,

busted my sail, made me stand

in front of someone, fall down

in front of someone, give up

my alimony, my wreath, my

grave. Now every point of view

a rail gleaming in yellow starlight,

polished with travel,

heated with worth.

We arise from ash

and not the other way around.

And climb upward’s inches

by crystal intent.