Spells: New and Selected Poems

Calendars

24 calendars A poem in chants for four voices: Demeter ​ Chorus ​ Persephone ​ ​ Hades ​ In the winding of the vine our voices stretch from us and twine — ​ No,​going​into​the​waiting​places ​ is​not​easy.​Flowers​fade​there. ​ around the year’s fermented wine — ​ Mostly,​it’s​surrender​of​wanting, ​ or​the​fear​that​a​flame​will​be​dampened— ​ or​that​everything​warm​will​come​rushing ​ over​me​with​reproach—or​that​endless ​ needles​could​be​ranged​in​the​tunnel— ​ or​that​my​bare​feet​would​be​slippery— ​ Yellow. Fall roars down to the ground, loud, in the leafy sun that pours liquid through doors. Yellow, the leaves go down ​ or​that​once​I’m​down​in​that​darkness ​ someone​outside​will​block​off​the​entrance— Touches​of​gold​stipple​the​branches, promising​weeks​of​time​— 25 ​ ​ Thread with Me ​ ​ My lover, when you riddle with me— ​ reddening slowly, then suddenly free, turned like a key ​ Oh!​the​falling​flowers​have​caught​me ​ by​dipping​yellow,​purple​towards​the​hunger— ​ ​ —the hard, the intricate dark (I hear the notes of your words ring for me cool as the birds, ​ ​ my lover— ​ through the long year’s fermenting wine her​thin​stems​turning,​held​to​be—lost— ​ ​ my lover, when you thread with me ​ Now you are uncurled and cover our eyes with the edge of winter sky, leaning over us in icy stars through this night-shot night-​ shot​dark is​never​easy. ​ Flowers​fade​here. 26 ​ Voices​pull​me​on​through​the​cavern ​ from​the​new​season.​Her​voice​old,​silent— ​ ​ our hands, our breasts, our curves curl through our hands and ravel— On​damp​limestone,​a​violet​curling— ​ ​ my lover, when you riddle with me the hard, the intricate dark. ​ Rack​me​with​courage,​spring, ​ come​kill​me,​flowers; ​ ​ if we are shadows, come; make​me​our​shadows ​ as​I​reach​for​flowers. ...