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Poetry by
Blake Steele
This book may shatter spiritual stereotypes
for many, releasing the beauty and freedom
of the Spirit!
Art Work by Vicki Shuck
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Wild Sanity was first published in America in 1998. It has become a collector's item.
A second, expanded edition was published in 2003. It is even rarer.
To PURCHASE SECOND EDITION BOOK click here.
To PURCHASE CD of selected readings by Blake Steele with music and sound effects click here.
These excerpts from Wild Sanity's over 50 poems ©2003 Blake Steele,
may be freely
used and reproduced.
Please give
customary credit to the author.
For publishing
rights please email HERE
All images are
© 1998 by Vicki Shuck and can only be used with permission of the artist.
Reviews:
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“The words of Blake Steele shine with energy and insight. He has the generosity of a Naomi Shihab Nye
Poet, Author
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Richard Rohr. OFM
Author, Spiritual Director
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Poems from Wild Sanity
A DISCLAIMER OF GOD FOR GOD
There is a dead way to think about God,
a way of oppressive connotations:
a baggage-ladened, bickering, constrictive way;
a gray way, all pinch-nosed and guilt-riddled,
of an angry old man in the skies
or the three prudish guys—the status quo
we've institutionalized.
I would like for you to set all that aside,
if you can, and consider with me a second way:
a way of glacial freshness,
of deep belly laughter,
of love's naked longing,
of star-spattered vastness
and the eruptive white spume of whales—
of delirious songs of birds drunk on berries.
It is about the greatest freedom the wildest abandonment in beauty!
and a light that melts you
every time you see it shine in a human eye.
It is about the repose of a rose garden
in a face you instantly love,
and the greatest fairy tale of sacrificial love
come true! It is a Voice
that captures your heart forever...
Or being electric with life!
like the wild Christ!
shaking your head in a dance,
refusing oppressive existence,
breaking open
until you are brimming with life—
being crazy with love—
spinning in wild circles, singing
for no one—not even yourself!—
just because you must sing to say it
and move in it: the eternal spume,
the gurgle in the gut:
drunk and giddy—
angry and blatantly sober—
snapping the chains!
passionate and flaming,
thirsting and howling,
green and all growing,
falling and flowing,
forgiving and free
like a river.
*
When I mention the God name,
please know that I'm referring
to this second, more primal way.
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WAKING THE SOUL
Would you wake up your soul?
Walk then somewhere, anywhere,
through a field, over a hill,
down a lane,
and touch the sky with your fingers...
Then turn to compliment the roses
for their dresses,
and the way they watch the ocean
all day with patience,
and how they love the summer garden's
starry skies
when they, in black dresses,
drift in dreams of fragrance.
You are waking up to seek your soul
that hides somewhere in happiness
(a secret poet in an unpoetic age),
that dips its naked body
in pure colors and hides
in every color of the day;
that paints itself black,
like the Christ child's skin,
and runs wild and sacred in the night;
that, gray-eyed and innocent,
looks quietly upon you
in morning's light
waiting for you to sing
until all your sorrows are sung away
and you lean against a wall
and laugh at bird song,
and laugh at your hands and feet...
and laugh at children laughing,
and laugh at lover's awkward loving,
until your knees are buckling
as your soul slips through
your laughter
and makes you.
NIGHT LONGINGS
Wandering the streets here
I can't find you.
I think you must be hiding
somewhere amongst
a thousand wild islands of lush herbs,
of goats and birds.
By night you travel
to pound your heart inside my ribs.
Sleep is a black flame
that burns holes in the universe
to let you slip through.
Your pure motion colors dreams,
your lines are mimicked
by grapes and lilies.
How can I find the door
unto you
which our shadows have closed?
Should I knock on a stone,
or starlight,
or on the face of a flower?
And who owns the key
of questions
only the wind
can answer?
IF YOU HAVE NO REASON FOR JOY
If you have no reason for joy,
then dance because the sky is blue
and the growing grass is green.
Spin in thankfulness
because your lungs grow large
then small,
because the air caresses you
and lifts your hair,
because you have eyes to see
form and miraculous color,
because of water.
And if you can,
speak these words,
"I love you,"
unto the nothing you have always feared
you'd be...
and let nothing echo back,
"I love you,"
as light leaps up
in your bones.
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ONE DAY, LOOK NO LONGER HERE
(Listen to reading from Wild Sanity CD) the Song of Solomon
shall swallow
the book of Romans
up into itself.
Then the beautiful cathedrals
will fill with trees,
the baptismal bowl
will become a luminous lake,
the holy aisles will be flowered paths
and birds will be quickly
admitted to the choirs.
Then the simple pulpit
of a country church
will become a great stone
upon which is everlastingly
written these words:
Look no longer here,
for God is writing
His beauty
with a lover's hand
upon the waters
of your heart.
HOLDING ME YOUNG
There is an island
that holds me young
in its ancient memories.
It still rocks me
as a child
in rosy pines
high on white cliffs
above the blue waters
of my dreams.
At night
the island moves
somewhere
upon a sea of stars.
Perhaps it sails
around the shadows
of the world
until it sinks
in vast gold seas
of the sun.
Or perhaps
it has sailed small
and hidden
in some woman's
green eyes
until she opens them
in love
upon me.
MORE WRITING IN PREPARATION
When you arrive,
summer will blow in my windows
dressed in its carnation garments,
trailing straw.
And that secret worm will shrink
before your luminous gaze
and fall from love's apple
into the dark.
You are the little sister
of those wild spices
that have grown upon the dry hills
of Provence since Roman times:
thyme, oregano, lavender,
to perfume your hair by day,
the smoke of sage-wood fires
soaking into your skin
by night.
I swear,
if you should write a poem
the paper itself
would reek of summer.
ECHOES FROM THE BLUE BOY
(Jean Giono)
Break nothing, tear nothing,
stifle nothing, efface nothing.
Let the whole round world
of blue air and green seas,
of stars and planets and countless waves
course through the embrace of two
innocent lovers.
Let honey flow from lip to lip
in words and kisses.
It is meant to be like this,
no gesture forbidden, all love-born
and breathing, pouring silver life
in shivers, in the shaken bells
of laughter, in the brightness
of eyes shining in eyes...
As summer fruit swells, gorged
with sunlight, and leaves shimmer
their own leaf-laughter in the breeze,
so our hearts are to be lush with life
and free to love with Love's wisdom:
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