it is addressed thusly:
A fragment.

it reads:
Carefully we watched the skies
Until the sleeping hours came
Among the host had caught our eyes
Seven wonders' aether-flame

Then since then we cannot think
Of wonders as all wonderful
At all unless we count and blink
And counting seven several!

They are the place we call the sky
Heaven's domes do cover all
In aerial realms do spirits fly
Outer space, Abyss, Nowal!

The Syrian John was glib to say
That at least heavens of heavens were there
Some said seven, others may
Dispute, the counting then defer.

Let us head straight up - yes up!
And enter the musicked globes above;
Spheres within spheres do cup
On an eclipse; a line's enough.

First moon she is close at hand
(At least for these abysses!)
Second Venus meets our band
And third red Mars, whom no-one misses

Fourth is Mercury the quick
Fifth the solar house of gold;
Sixth fair Jupiter (the brick!)
Last is Saturn, distant, cold.

Be not fooled by accidents
Though they change their place;
Why consider these monuments?
They are the cosmos' human face.



it is addressed thusly:
Lo, unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given.

it reads:
Hold a moment and I will speak of
A holy day we ought to think of
The silver light of winter's end
A jubilation, a merry mend.

Now this tide had not come in
Not in winter's tide and when
It came when we know not the day
But of this time we all must say

The celebration of it came in
Winter's chill and cold tide when
All of us remember it cold
And thus it is the tale we've told.

A child who is God what can be said
What of Reason, lying, playing dead
But yet among irrational beasts there
Sets he minds true Reason to bear.

And of his bed we have a thought
Hay, oat, grain are caught
A manger, trough, holds without strife
For us Beasts, a bread of Life.

And is he not a stranger, Beauty
Who yet minds the law's dire duty
Friend of all, redeemer of Blood
A cast-out family, 'mid the mud?

Another thought about the cave
He comes not how our mind would crave;
It is into our deepest darkest place
He comes his stripes, his marks to trace.

And is not, if he Divinity
He the richest there can be?
But yet are poor-lords whose royal line,
Bore him here, in dust, in grime?

The cold and snow we must agree
Involve a kind felicity
An art to God's own story-telling
A solstice tale, a new God-spelling!

For out of the cold of our barren lack
Dayspring has dawned, the coming-back
Of what had fallen, of what was ours
In a lost child beneath the stars.

In which we see an irony
Worldly-wise East-lords three
Their precision tools and knowing word
Bring them only to our Lord.

In seeking stars they find the Sun,
And gifts are offered, three for one.
Fire they think, is their creator's form
But the Zeon is instead, a child warm.

And what of our experience here
About this God as child dear?
The ancient of days is so old,
He's rolled over to young, each year we're told!

The fact of Christmas is extended through
Every year we relive it true;
The Christmas story is never done
Until the last Christmas;
The final one.



it is addressed thusly:
A fragment.

it reads:
I see now a jubilee
A pageant great in front of me
Twelve and twelve and thousand ones
Pearls and flames and flaming suns!

Wind gusts hold the sounds of God
For every tongue, for every sod
A triad each for winds of four
And at times, for all one more.

The earthen-kin arising and rising from earth
Simon the Rock comes declaring His Birth
Nathan the Furrowed says God's Mother, now born
Andrew called first raises the Cross as a horn.

From water the waves of dispelling deceit
James the Changing Announces it Meet
Thomas the Pierced speaks of Water's new wight
John the Divine of transfiguring light.

The soaring and drifting ones all calling out
The Palm-laden path James is thun'dring about
Philip our Lady's last reclining has said
Matthias the Enthroning of man's nature with dread!

The fiery and fierce sparking, fast-catching men
Matthew the Candle-mass was his and then
Jude the Bold our Mother's entry uncrossed
Simon the Zealous tells us: Pentecost!

No truer Jew they say is left to be said
The thirteenth? Is Paul: Saul left half for dead
All speaking, all saying, with he as their spear
The Pascha, the passover, the Easter is here!

Wheels in wheels of living things
Each for all each says and sings;
Their sounds have gone throughout the earth
Twelve times bell chimes and rightly rings
Forget not their berth, the keys, their worth!



it is addressed thusly:
A fragment.

it reads:
Etchings seen as on twelve stones
A fell impressive sight
Recall the twelve, of beauty's helm
A city prism'd pearly light.

A jasper red for courageous dead
Our first she Marches forth today;
A sapphire's sky with rockets fly
The next is April's starry way;
Chalcedony's waxen colors for beauty's lovers
East's complete with May.

Of emeralds vert a wild concert
On June's own time of hearing;
Of sardonyx tan and brown earth-man
In July his works endearing;
Carnelian's cream of orange-clear dream
Through vision South's now clearing.

Chartreuse Chrysolite in enduring light
We find diligent September;
Beryl's blue and yellow hue
For pairs we know October;
Yellow topaz for he that has
And gives West end - November.

Brightly teal Chrysoprase's heel
for December's message wings;
Purple royal of Jacinth's oil
Our Janus' secret light brings;
Amethyst pale and violet tale
Now North the teller sings.

A year of times, a year of places
A year of stones, of tombs and homes
A year of roles and ranks and files
The mind must feel, the finger traces.



it is addressed thusly:
A fragment.

it reads:
Like world-trees would we
Of our inner kingdoms
Ransoms paid, promises made;
But could we keep them?

Let us ourselves decrease
(for we must eventually)
That they may increase

Let us recount the times and seasons
And again, to recount our travelogue;
That we forget not the reasons
Nor symbols, signs, our song.

A light verse is written here
(nothing so fancily framed)
That the deaf may hear.



it is addressed thusly:
A fragment.

it reads:
Let it be said of us
That we gave ourselves
As pillars;

Sunk into the Earth to lift
Those who came after us.

But not such pillars as adorn
That carry an awning or porch
A facade;

But instead as the four columns
Which make a court-yard.


Still Kickin'

it is addressed thusly:
Memory eternal, O Shepherd!

it reads:
Soulful saint Nick it is said
Gave so much of his own bread
A common work life we may say
Or a thousand-year like a day!

a postscript is here written:
a pass-word:

logismoi nicholas ochrid


Let Us Be

it is addressed thusly:

it reads:
Let us be and let us be not
Merely well-meaning or what
Misleading, misled, unread
Wrong or God forbid it, dead!

a postscript is here written:
a pass-word:

stefan translation grammatical voice crimes


Such is Love

it is addressed thusly:
A love so strange to us, yet it shall be our own.

it reads:
The culmination of all things
Our recapitulation brings
The end is nigh and near and here
Life the gift, sufficient, dear.

a postscript is here written:
a pass-word:

gulag christmas eve cruciform axis


I Love Coffee

it is addressed thusly:
A little cuppa...

it reads:
A small cup with a curved and gentle arc
Brewed strong, with a roast rich and dark
A dance of golden sugar all about the brew
Coffee is quite romantic; really, who knew!


Bread of Morning

it is addressed thusly:
Just add yeast!

it reads:
I arise today, not as though I wanted to
But nor as one who resists undue
Not as a machine who hasn't thought
But yet up I am, and down I'm not.



it is addressed thusly:
Mercury comes with a message today:
it reads:
A fire that works the joints and limbs
Its smoke is clear, but sight it dims
Makes floors perils for feet untold
Bites the skin, that snake, the cold!



it is addressed thusly:
When we for a moment glimpse the diamond winter...
it reads:
Lit high by sun through crystal cloud
Ephem'ral wafting frosting shroud
Garment unseamed of wintry-dream
Timeless white half-frozen stream.
a postscript is here written:
a pass-word:

american some say that snow


Ace of Clubs

it is addressed thusly:
that invincible trophy, that weapon of peace...

it reads:
A pugilist both brave and quick
Quiet wielder of the stick
That rod must be the tree of life
This melee is then the soul's own strife!



it reads:
Two worlds existing side by side
Within man they now collide
Along the vines my fingers trace
Thin like gossamer, this place.



it is addressed thusly:
Maybe the end of an era is marked by the departure on a journey; a point of no return.

it reads:
Door which opens the plains of frost
A path paced none but by the lost
A chain'd trellis grinding closed
'Science', Academy, 'Progress': hosed!

a postscript is here written:
a pass-word:



Non Cuppa

it reads:
I find true in this early December
Mostly tired just when I remember
Many morning coffees of the past
Decaffeination, how long can it last?


Be ware

it is addressed thusly:
What cannot be given, is seen as sold.

it reads:
Sometimes the salesmen comes with wares
Others he stands with lonesome stares
Still yet a time he'll come again
As a gifting, gracious friend.



it reads:
Grayness reigns in days of rains
The shadows fall on plaintive strains
Or nothing much at all is said
On those days, left for dead.