Doug Palmer

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Doug Palmer

Poems Written Out of William Carlos Williams 1

Now we have started to come back, the fast is longing. the light of cast foreshadows all else. We are bent upon it,upon the way. There isn't enough light until we bring ourselves Say it only once,that you may know. Still There isn't enough light until we bring ourselves For caught up in the wind, we stand before, we have knelt that way And There isn't enough light until we bring ourselves.

Doug Palmer

Poems Written Out of William Carlos Williams 2

Now sit in the sunken stairwell, rejoining there. There is only the real physical cold for the moment,to gather you there. It is for every time you knew before, that this matters. The plain sun will hold enough of tomorrow. But for you,there is no place to refuge from. Only the moment is cold enough, for the warmth to survive in it. We have lost most of, Yet all is again for that moment of cold.

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Poems Written Out of William Carlos Williams 3

But if you come up to it, even if you tend it with love and care, it will still grow into a tree, a jungle,a hive, and your hand near upon it will not be the same forth. There is no recourse to love, for all you do will thrive in you in that same way, and what you put out, will grow round you, and the wind will at last whistle your lips.

Poems Written Out of William Carlos Williams 4

Now we stopped looking to be excused. You have said it. You who shrug the flesh, for all it's worth. Woman: stroked to a fine cross-hatched plan. The guts of it! to take each thread and loose it. I can take the grabbing vines and slapping branches. But this! I can take that too.

A Hundred Voices at Once

You hear this calling.A bird again and again. Again and again. What sign can I give to myself? What is the night, to such a calling bird? Again and again. I ask to speak only to myself. You hear this calling.A bird again and again. Again and again, Now I listen to be hearing. Again and again, The voice falls off of me, found dumb. You hear this calling. You hear this calling Again and again. Again and again.I have lost my voice, for want of myself. You hear this calling.A bird again and again.

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