Burns Texts
​ami : âme : amen
les saisons s'en viennent et les saisons s'en vont
comme de vieux amis et mon âme
qui apportent avec eux la chaleur et la vie
et qui me laissent là toujours en manque d'eux
​
et ce grand oiseau blanc inconnu des parages
est venu par trois fois voler sur ma maison
et l'été a passé et moi je l'ai maudit
pour le froid le silence pour ceux qui sont partis
​
mais les saisons s'en viennent et les saisons s'en vont
comme de vieux amis et mon âme
l'amitié l'amour la mort
se mêlent souvent sans trop d'efforts
REturning
I have learned this:
if you stay in one place long enough
they will return to you.
​
The geese you saw leaving,
their feet rising into dark bodies.
They will return.
​
All you need to do is watch the sun each day
as it tumble through the sky
and they will come again.
​
They will return, floating toward you,
their damp bodies
still trembling from flight
Deep in the Night
Deep in the night the cry of a swallow,
under the stars he flew,
keen as pain was his call to follow
over the world to you.
​
Love in my heart is a cry forever
lost as the swallow's flight,
seeking for you and never, never
still by the stars at night.
The Mountain to the Moon
luna
amica mea
​
sweet, silver moon
hanging in the sky
you fade away at dawn
and return to me each night
​
oh, how I wish you could stay
but your home is in the stars
​
luna
amica mea
amor aeternus
​
sweet, silver moon
if only we could be near
but I'm bound to the Earth
​
so I'm reaching to the heavens
to you
Lines for Lake Decade
Down the warped dock
boards frayed and leaning
towards the surface of this lake
water doing brown, then to froth
sand flies, mosquito hawks, trawling motors,
hum in the gray light of tired days and heavy nets
Lord of fin and wing and prayer,
hold me here as long as you can,
before the water shifts, brings its salt in
Space, Release
I am teaching my son to throw into space
He sees motion and color
releases the ball toward what's no longer there
Always behind his target
now matter how soon he releases the throw.
His feet pat grass in rhythm
motion and delivery good, all good
his eyes won't drift beyond now.
Strange to know how much the future
presses his on his heart,
fourteen years old
and so looking forward to drinking or girls or driving
so ready to haul off toward the open arms
the horizon extends just out of view.
And yet, how miserable, how hard it is
to help him accept the notion of early.
Just a Beginning
What a slow breath
let out from the porch as the sun rises
over the pines trees
my wife teaching our daughter
to brown roux
without burning flour
I am at Home
I will wait here in the fields
to see how well the rain brings on the grass
In the labor of the fields
longer than a man's life
I am at home.
Don't come with me.
You stay home too.
I will be standing in the woods
where the old trees move only with the wind
and then with gravity.
In the stillness of the tress
I am at home.
New Roof
On the housetop, the floor of the boundless
where birds and storms fly and disappear,
and the valley opened over our heads,
a leap of clarity between the hills,
we bent five days in the sun,
tearing free the old roof,
nailing on the new,
letting the sun, touch for one in fifty years
the dusky rafters,
and then securing the house again
in its shelter and shade.
Thus like a little ledge,
a piece of hist'ry has come between
me and the sky.
Good Bones
From the road, all tucked in and tidy
Between the hydrangeas and the twilight sky.
You've always liked the ones best
For their charm, their good bones.
Gravity has a way of dropping
Everything under the dresser, into the corner
Can't lose your marbles
If you know (more or less) where they've gone.
Remember the first place we lived?
How there was room for the piano
If we left it in the hallway?
Remember the winter nights?
How we laid awake waiting
For the pipes to burst?
We turn up the lights (the bulbs burned out)
Add another coat of paint.
How many times have you tapped this nail
Back into place?
Each wall tells a story.
Each floor sings the mockingbird's song.
Light the candles, dim the lights,
we'll change the bulb another day.
You are wise,
You appreciate what was once straight
now softly curves.
Still standing. Good bones.
A Place
There is a day when the road neither comes nor goes,
and the way is not a way but a place.
Together on the Porch
They sit together on the porch, the dark
Almost fallen, the house behind them dark.
Their supper done with, they have washed and dried
The dishes - only two plates now, two glasses,
Two knives, two forks, two spoons-
small work for two.
She sits with her hands folded in her lap,
At rest.
He smokes his pipe.
They do not speak.
And when they speak at last it is to say
What each one knows the other knows.
They have One mind between them, now, finally
For all its knowing will not exactly know
Which one goes first through the dark doorway, bidding
Goodnight,
and which sits on a while alone.
All Seems Beautiful to Me
From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of imaginary lines
Going where I list my own master total and absolute.
Listening to others, consdering well what they say
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
gently, but with undeniable will
divesting myself from the holds that would hold me.
I inhale great draughts of space.
The East and the West are mine,
and the North and the South are mine.
I am larger, better than I thought,
I did not know I held so much goodness.
All seems beautiful to me.
I can repeat over and over to men and women
You have done such good to me,
I would do the same to you.
I will recruit for myself and you as I go,
I will scatter myself among men and women as I go.
All seems beautiful to me.
Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me
Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.
Holding Hands
I'm searching
For my true love
And I know she's there
Just carry on
And I promise
I'll find you
And it won't be long
Just hold on
So I'm trying
To be
A better man
But the work goes on
One day,
When all this is washed away
Some will remain
full of hope in the pouring rain
And I'll see you there
With wet shoes and wet hair
And when the last day is done
one day,
We'll make it
Somehow
You know we will
We'll be holding hands