*from One With Willows, copyright 2019 by Joan Myles*

o wake sweet childwake to Wonder
wake to wander
where only Love abides
where darkness never hides
but will reveal
what is real

The idea of Order at Key West

BY WALLACE STEVENS

She sang beyond the genius of the sea.

The water never formed to mind or voice,

Like a body wholly body, fluttering

Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion

Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry,

That was not ours although we understood,

Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.

The sea was not a mask. No more was she.

The song and water were not medleyed sound

Even if what she sang was what she heard,

Since what she sang was uttered word by word.

It may be that in all her phrases stirred

The grinding water and the gasping wind;

But it was she and not the sea we heard.

For she was the maker of the song she sang.

The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea

Was merely a place by which she walked to sing.

Whose spirit is this? we said, because we knew

It was the spirit that we sought and knew

That we should ask this often as she sang.

If it was only the dark voice of the sea

That rose, or even colored by many waves;

If it was only the outer voice of sky

And cloud, of the sunken coral water-walled,

However clear, it would have been deep air,

The heaving speech of air, a summer sound

Repeated in a summer without end

And sound alone. But it was more than that,

More even than her voice, and ours, among

The meaningless plungings of water and the wind,

Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heaped

On high horizons, mountainous atmospheres

Of sky and sea.

It was her voice that made

The sky acutest at its vanishing.

She measured to the hour its solitude.

She was the single artificer of the world

In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,

Whatever self it had, became the self

That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,

As we beheld her striding there alone,

Knew that there never was a world for her

Except the one she sang and, singing, made.

Ramon Fernandez, tell me, if you know,

Why, when the singing ended and we turned

Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights,

The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there,

As the night descended, tilting in the air,

Mastered the night and portioned out the sea,

Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles,

Arranging, deepening, enchanting night.

Oh! Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon,

The maker’s rage to order words of the sea,

Words of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred,

And of ourselves and of our origins,

In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds.

Wallace Stevens, “The Idea of Order at Key West” from Collected Poems. Copyright 1923, 1951, 1954 by Wallace Stevens. Reprinted with the permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc.

*Snow flurries in the Willamette Valley for the second day…oh my*

Remind me how the seasons go

From summer’s heat

To autumn’s glow

From chilly days and nights that flow

Into the frosty winter blow

Remind me how the cycle brings

Us back to green and blooming things

Sweet fragrant breezes

birdie wings

–so why in April is there snow

*Yesterday I offered you a bit of a nudge to read and perhaps even write a few lines of poetry. Below are a few prompts to get you started. I’d love to hear about any poems that result from these prompts, and will gladly share here if you contact me. Wishing you sweet writing!*

Prompts:

Joke**Justice**Jelly-Joy

*Write a poem based on the punchline of a joke.

*Use poetry as a call to Justice.

*Let your Joy spill onto the page sweet as Jelly.

*Yesterday I was privileged to be Poet of the Day for Behind Our Eyes, an international writers’ group for persons with disabilities. The following is my poetic nudge to members to read and create more poetry. As you can see, my name forms the stem of the acrostic. That’s my playful reminder that I’m the one doing the nudging. *

Poetic Nudge

*an acrostic call to read and write poetry from Joan Myles*

Jangle a jingle

Or wrangle a rhyme

Angle and wrinkle

Negating all time

Mystify mesmerize

Yodel and yell

Lyrically speaking

Exacting Love’s

Spell

*from One Glittering Wing, copyright 2020 by Joan Myles*

meanwhile little fox asleep
between my hands
awakes

bright eyes peer deep
she blinks then stands
and takes

no backward step
as into wilder lands
she breaks

Walk with meArm in arm
Love each moment
Kindled with charm

ubiquitous eyerobed in burnished black

*I attended my first in-person worship service Saturday morning, on the occasion of my dear mother’s yartzeit. Wrapping myself in prayer shawl and fringes, Love was truly evident*

once more

where the people

come together to pray

come together to sing as one

I bow

wrapped in tzitzit and gratitude

rapt rejoicing weeping

Feel Love’s expanse

Once more