• dolor

  • I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils,
  • Neat in their boxes, dolor of pad and paper weight,
  • All the misery of manilla folders and mucilage,
  • Desolation in immaculate public places,
  • Lonely reception room, lavatory, switchboard,
  • The unalterable pathos of basin and pitcher,
  • Ritual of multigraph, paper-clip, comma,
  • Endless duplicaton of lives and objects.
  • And I have seen dust from the walls of institutions,
  • Finer than flour, alive, more dangerous than silica,
  • Sift, almost invisible, through long afternoons of tedium,
  • Dropping a fine film on nails and delicate eyebrows,
  • Glazing the pale hair, the duplicate grey standard faces.
  • :::next:::
  • in a dark time

  • In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
  • I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
  • I hear my echo in the echoing wood--
  • A lord of nature weeping to a tree.
  • I live between the heron and the wren,
  • Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.
  • What's madness but nobility of soul
  • At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
  • I know the purity of pure despair,
  • My shadow pinned against a sweating wall.
  • That place among the rocks--is it a cave,
  • Or a winding path? The edge is what I have.
  • A steady storm of correspondences!
  • A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
  • And in broad day the midnight come again!
  • A man goes far to find out what he is--
  • Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
  • All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.
  • Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire.
  • My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
  • Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
  • A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
  • The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
  • And one is One, free in the tearing wind.
  • :::next:::
  • :::back:::
  • the minimal

  • I study the lives on a leaf: the little
  • Sleepers, numb nudgers in cold dimensions,
  • Beetles in caves, newts, stone-deaf fishes,
  • Lice tethered to long limp subterranean weeds,
  • Squirmers in bogs,
  • And bacterial creepers
  • Wriggling through wounds
  • Like elvers in ponds,
  • Their wan mouths kissing the warm sutures,
  • Cleaning and caressing,
  • Creeping and healing.
  • :::next:::
  • :::back:::
  • the storm

  • Against the stone breakwater,
  • Only an ominous lapping,
  • While the wind whines overhead,
  • Coming down from the mountain,
  • Whistling between the arbors, the winding terraces;
  • A thin whine of wires, a rattling and flapping of leaves,
  • And the small street-lamp swinging and slamming against
  • the lamp pole.
  • Where have the people gone?
  • There is one light on the mountain.
  • 2
  • Along the sea-wall, a steady sloshing of the swell,
  • The waves not yet high, but even,
  • Coming closer and closer upon each other;
  • A fine fume of rain driving in from the sea,
  • Riddling the sand, like a wide spray of buckshot,
  • The wind from the sea and the wind from the mountain contending,
  • Flicking the foam from the whitecaps straight upward into the darkness.
  • A time to go home!--
  • And a child's dirty shift billows upward out of an alley,
  • A cat runs from the wind as we do,
  • Between the whitening trees, up Santa Lucia,
  • Where the heavy door unlocks,
  • And our breath comes more easy--
  • Then a crack of thunder, and the black rain runs over us, over
  • The flat-roofed houses, coming down in gusts, beating
  • The walls, the slatted windows, driving
  • The last watcher indoors, moving the cardplayers closer
  • To their cards, their anisette.
  • 3
  • We creep to our bed, and its straw mattress.
  • We wait; we listen.
  • The storm lulls off, then redoubles,
  • Bending the trees half-way down to the ground,
  • Shaking loose the last wizened oranges in the orchard,
  • Flattening the limber carnations.
  • A spider eases himself down from a swaying light-bulb,
  • Running over the coverlet, down under the iron bedstead.
  • Water roars into the cistern.
  • We lie closer on the gritty pillow,
  • Breathing heavily, hoping--
  • For the great last leap of the wave over the breakwater,
  • The flat boom on the beach of the towering sea-swell,
  • The sudden shudder as the jutting sea-cliff collapses,
  • And the hurricane drives the dead straw into the living pine-tree.
  • :::next:::
  • :::back:::
  • the reckoning

  • All profits disappear: the gain
  • Of ease, the hoarded, secret sum;
  • And now grim digits of old pain
  • Return to litter up our home.
  • We hunt the cause of ruin, add,
  • Subtract, and put ourselves in pawn;
  • For all our scratching on the pad,
  • We cannot trace the error down.
  • What we are seeking is a fare
  • One way, a chance to be secure:
  • The lack that keeps us what we are,
  • The penny that usurps the poor.
  • :::back:::
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theodore roethke