poetry  
Michael McFee  
Melinda Blount  
Ajahn Sucitto  
Pamela Harrison  
Theresa Morris  
Colin Momeyer  
Susanne Dubroff  
Mary Ann Sullivan  
Kristine Ong Muslim  
Patricia Gomes  
Claudia Serea  
 

photography
Mari Seder 
Penny Harris 
John Willis 
Collamer Abbott 
M.B. Gaisser 

Managing Editor   
Marv Klassen-Landis 
This Issue's Editor 
 
Laura Foley 

 

Mary Ann Sullivan

Gathering South Asia Through Our Eyes

for Maggie

Of water won and wonder woo
And water lost and arbor under
Sat and yellow pink and yellow
seat and granite bench and there
we sat

Ever long the last and last

Walks and through and arch and long
The arms and robes of Muslims
forward walk and
Wind and blown
We talked

And sat and yellow pink and yellow
seat and granite bench and there
we sat

the scarfs of Pakistani men were long
and on the shoulder down
and robes of Islam longer

the women Pakistani soft
and gentle tender
south and south of Asia
south
for once and first Kashmiris known

and gather motion gather words
through eye and eye and
pulled in mind and held
in mind like camera
'neath an arbor
with gathered under
pink and pink and yellow
share and share

and rides and car and parked on brick
for mom, and mum, and mom
and green

Gathering south Asia through our eyes
Gathering pink and pink and pink
with dearest, dearest pink.
And sprinkling down south Asia
piece and piece and gently falling
Piece of dearest pink and pink and yellow

At work the day after

for Maggie

She of hall pulled through
The air
The surge of knowing
Deeper

After morning weep
And words through air vibration sent her
phone
evening sleep
and on the morrow
in the hall stand each of
one at ends
beyond
and tightening air
the loins of known
no words
just known
and knowing

known
and
known the air between

Writer’s Metanoia

1.
In the beginning was the word
and the word created
the deep in me
a formless void
dark covered
with darkness
only the word was there,
in black shadow hovering.

Then there was light in me,
which the darkness vied
but could not overpower.

And I saw the light was good,

And I watched the word
divide darkness from light
and name them.

So it came, my first day.

2.
In shadow and light
I flowed endlessly
until the word
vaulted and clove me
into two parts:
the depths
the heights
the second day.

3.
Then the word established
land in me.
firma terra
earth on which to settle and be constant
and in my stable ground,
the word shaped trees
that bore fruit
with seeds in their very middles
and plants and flowers sprung up,
red, yellow, green, blue
all with seeds, seeds!

Ground and life
the third day.

4.
Then the word said,
"I will conceal infinity from you."
It made separate lights,
one hot orb for day
and at night a moveable circle
which grew like a white thought,
then faded to silence.

And stars were made
to sparkle me,
reminding me,
"There's a festival today!"
They made me forget the boundless.

Steady the sun, the moon,
the stars, beat their rhythm,
the fourth day.

5.
Then the word created
birds in me
some that hung on wind
some that closed their wings
to dive for prey

And it made creatures that moved
in my depths:
leviathan, and clawed shells
that crept on the bottom
and simple swimmers
wearing flesh of gold
and green and grey.

They multiplied
And I was afraid
the fifth day.

6.
But, the word would not stop.
It pulled from my deep, black core
hooved creatures, serpents
and beasts
howling and digging.

Trembling, I ran through
this creation and cried out
like a poet in a stone tower,

"What hurts the soul
My soul adores.
No better than a beast
upon all fours." 1

And, desolate, I crawled into
a cave of earth.

But, the word found me
it said, "What are you doing here?"

It took me into the world again
and formed me into the shape
of itself.

Yet, I was the dust of
a soft pencil
Thin, frail letters on a page

Until the word blew gently
on the edges of my letters,
my symbols,
my signs.

I was a word holding creation

I did not cover my face like Elijah
I called out like Tieresias,
like John from water:

the sixth day.

7.
On the seventh day
The word rested in me
and blessed me

I would be a master craftsman
delighting in the word;
day after day
at play in its presence
at play everywhere in its world.


1. W. B. Yeats "What Hurts the Soul."


Towers Two

(Lines written while standing in New Jersey and looking over a bay
at the World Trade Center, almost 2 years before the towers collapsed.)

“Non temer; che ‘l nostro passo
Non ci puo torre alcun n’e data.”
        —Dante’s
Inferno

I.

In clear day
farther than water,
over the bay
I see the
towers two
and grey.

And thus the exiled poet weigh,

who journeyed toward a deeper land
where other towers also stand

two. 1

II.

Further than where long wide oar,
of old Caronte strikes the soul
then rolls
and dips
and pours
right through
black and purple liquid hue
as out his mouth he shouts and cries,
"Hope no more to see the skies."

III.

And Phlegyas in his arrowed boat
Through flume of blood and tears
does float
and roar
and snore the words...
"Caught now art thou guilty soul!
Deeper go into the hole
of mondo basso
foc'eterno."

IV.

Past the lyric's limbo
beyond the poet's ground
Virgil walks with Dante
Through wild inferno's round
and gyre
the pain
and burn
the fire
down
and bane
the bale.

Until with them I also stand
before the towers' tale.

V.

Blazing, shining,
red suspire
burning, standing
all afire

vertical they spew.

the towers two.

Look high upon one battlement
and see them standing there

furies three and squealing
with snakes inside their hair.

But I with William Butler Yeats
who on this lyric tower paced

"Would ask a question of them all." 2

So round I turned to back and forth
and up
the artists called

Virgil, Gobbi, Dante, Yeats
Giotto, Tennyson

And when to me they
all did come
to last and one

I up and spoke another one:
a tower tall.

V.

Twas in the land of Shinar
Where language vied toward God
Said one man to another
let's build a town of sod
and brick
and bitumen
and then
to crown it all
we'll build a tower high and up
to pierce
through Heaven's hall.

In consequence
In consequence
Oh, we'll be known by all, oh yes.
Oh, we'll be known by all.

But their tower it did fall,
Babel called.

For fame will have its season
So, what cost to build, what reason?

VI.

And why should I attempt to write
And make a tower high?
If three in it, the furies squeal
And utter threatening cries,
so strong that
tumble down would stone
of words that it comprised.

Dante took the answer,
stepping out from all the rest,

"Indeed have many fallen
who have their towers made,
bards and fine musicians
painters on the blade
of truth's thin shade.

"But listen high
and listen wide
to what I now do say
Twas their intent, their purpose,
that down their towers laid.

"If pure the deed
done without aim
of lucre, pleasure, fame
now still would have their towers stood
and tall."

Then round he turned
and off he walked
as if he would
depart
with all the other artists
the deep inferno dark.

"But wait!" up called I out to him,
and he to me turned round.
"Oh sage, you thought the laurel once
did hold the highest prize.
There in St. John's Baptistry
you'd have it 'fore you died
But yo hey, Senhor Dante,
who suffered long outside
your faithless fair,
Firenze bride,

instead of leaf
you wore a wreath
of water on your head
given in that Baptistry
long before your death.
and there your voice did speak so young
and echo in that water dome.

Then he to me replied,
"Said thus, you too shall know.

"Your Gobbi then, your Magda, Yeats, 3
Brooks and Tennyson
portals are
that vertical
give light to anyone
who would to them advance.

"For song sincere
is purest yet
its light does pierce
the veil
As on the day when sacrifice
of self was made the scale.

"Push out then words from deep inside
heart pulsed, and blood the rhyme
beyond the prophet's dome of stone
verse liquid with the vine."

VII.

Spoke to me
not more he did,
ever from that day.
Leaving me,
and you,
and we
with handsome, winsome
Gianni. 4
"Per questa bizzarria
m'han cacciato all'inferno...e cosi sia;,
ma, con licenza del gran padre Dante,
se stasera vi siete divertiti,
concedetemi voi...
l'attenuante! 5


1. Reference to Dante's Towers of Dis in The Inferno

2. From "The Tower" by William Butler Yeats

3. References to basso and soprano opera singers Titto Gobbi and Magda Olivero

4. Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi

5. From Gianni Schicchi:"For this crazy escapade, they followed me like dogs to hell...and so be it; but with our great father Dante's permission, if you have enjoyed yourselves this evening, grant me...some mercy! "

Mary Ann Sullivan’s multimedia poem, Shaking the Spiders Out can be viewed at the BBC Poetry online website here:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/poetry/ondisplay/index.shtml