to Ray Bradbury, looking back, or forward
the names of things we held in our heart
when alphabets foundered and worlds came apart
to my sister, Sharon,
and all her glistening music
go deeper into the woods soothed my pages,
my memory's screen door opens to the stars;
there's my Grandfather in the yard
gazing up at the constellations
we make useful things: things that won't shatter.
we make useful things, things that Matter.
think of a wave on the sea, I said;
song itself came to the back stairs of the castle
in a drenching rain
like the princess in old fairy stories, refrains
what if we wrote notes in the snow
here we were when the birds finished the breadcrumb trail
last minute drugstore gifts are best for pure excitement!
someone's sure to want just one more box of
chocolate covered cherries-
I wrote on a page of light;
then there was night.
[to God our Father]
this is to the One who caused, who causes
music to arise though He is denied
if I could have written on an endless sky
the beginning and ending of your fraught and mysterious syllables
and only in clouds that I knew would fade
Poetry, still I would have tried.