The Beggar Poet's Hexagram 3: Difficulty at the Beginning

[stevef]

When you deliver a box of fruit
to the neighbours
make sure you step by for I haven’t seen you
since the first night when you sheltered
from the storm.
Do you remember the song we shared
and the rhythms we penned?


Amongst the bramble
yellow flowers, in the clouds
a hint of blue,
in the hedgerow red
and motion of absence
in the leaves before the rain came down


maudlin tears springing from a drunkard
after a night without Heaven’s assent,
a minstrel plucking a bow three times
as fast
as an oarsman pulling against the tide,
the sodden garments of a traveller who couldn't stop
for fear he’ll miss entry
into the pass before mud and stones prevent access


on the door
bright light,
in the hallway
a glow,
over the picture frame illumination,
on a junk at anchor
glare before the thunder sounds


a curse losing way from antiquity,
the violet dove fluttering where dreams
are erased,
an outburst countermanding the demand to remain steady


someone who’ll love
when the flood recedes,
a gentle settling on the attempt
to strike a match
before the lights go out


the trivial arranged backwards,
parenthesis around the flow from an ageing heart
and descent from higher forms
to one individual scented with night
before the mood shifts,
my eyes become clearer
and I can construct a line which has no obvious compunction
to impress with erudite meaning and excess


instead, close the dictionary,
respond to the images you evoked
and finish the flask
on the table:


toward morning unto evening
hold back the ache from breaking open


(the corner
of your eye, a gasp
for fresh air,
a scratch on your chin)


a chance to say from the bottom
of my being


(somnolent breath on tired joints,
recondite passers-by entwined,
the caress until time
to go)




how much you mean to me.