Selected poems
After Rilke's Marienleben: Annunciation to Mary
Understand: not that she was unnerved
By the angel. As much as some others begin
When a pillar of moonlight beams through
Any curtained room, illuminating dust
Particles in the air, would Mary have been
Made perturbed by the image the angel chose
By which to be made visible. Could Mary
Divine how dull, how monochromatic, lingering
Here can be? (Ah, if we just knew how
Undeniably pure she was! Fabled, once,
When resting, the mythological beast spied her
In the woods and looking lost itself until it could —
Without any coupling with its own kind —
Conceived the genuine animal, the unicorn,
The creature of light.) Though he entered not,
But that he bent his head in deference, so close
To her, this young man, this particular angel,
Joined with her in their gaze of each other,
As her eyes just glanced up, as if all around
Them became void, and what untold numbers
Saw, exhibited, suffered, appeared to be
Forced within them: only herself and him —
The perceived and the perceiver, the eye itself
And the delight of the eye, absolutely nowhere
Else but here in only this place. See it!
How frightening this is! How afraid they both are!
Then out of the angel's mouth poured melodious song.
After Rilke's Marienleben: Visitation of the Virgin
Like the inscription of an initial letter,
It went smoothly for her, but often in scaling
A rise, the wonder momentarily flashed
Throughout her body, and breathlessly
She straightened herself upon the towering,
Windswept Judean hills. Not by the sheer
Vista below could her abundance ever be
Measured; striding, with each step she believed
No one could transcend the largesse she carried.
She needed to place her hand upon Elisabeth's
Body, which was even riper than hers,
And they both doddered toward the other
To stroke one another's robes and unpinned hair.
Each, with a sanctum within her reserve,
Found asylum with their most immediate female
Relation. Oh, the Savior in her was in blossom,
But the ecstatic that already stirred in her cousin's
Womb kindled the diminutive Baptist into kicking.
After Rilke's Marienleben: Birth of Christ
If you hadn't possessed simplicity, then how
Could this occur to you which illumines the darkest night?
God, who thundered over all peoples, now
Recreates himself with tenderness and shines within you
To light the world. Did you conceive of him possibly any greater?
But what is greatness? Straight through to the very core
Of matter where he passes moves his absolute providence.
Not even a star possesses the arc of such a highway.
Know these kings are great.
They heave before your lap
Treasures which they discern as nonpareil,
And perhaps you are even