The Painter
Sitting between the sea and the buildings
He enjoyed painting the sea’s portrait.
But just as children imagine a prayer . . .
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The Paradox
I am the mother of sorrows,
I am the ender of grief;
I am the bud and the blossom, . . .
Part for the Whole
When others run to windows or out of doors
To catch the sunset whole, he is content
With any segment anywhere he sits.
. . .
Passing
A professor invites me to his “Black Lit” class; they’re
reading Larson’s Passing. One of the black
students says, “Sometimes light-skinned blacks
. . .
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields, . . .
Past-Lives Therapy
They explained to me the bloody bandages
On the floor in the maternity ward in Rochester, N.Y.,
Cured the backache I acquired bowing to my old master, . . .
Pastoral Dialogue
Remember when you love, from that same hour
Your peace you put into your lover’s power;
From that same hour from him you laws receive, . . .
Peace Lilies
I collect them now, it seems. Like
sea-shells or old
thimbles. One for . . .
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, . . .
Peach
Come here’s
a peach he said
and held it out just far
. . .
