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                         RICH VISION  
                         POETRY BY BLAKE STEELE

                         FILE 2

 

                         A...

                         ADAM, WHERE ARE YOU?

                         ANOTHER POEM ABOUT LIFE AND DEATH

                         ANOTHER SHORT EXHORTATION

                              TO THE INVISIBLE WILD HOST

                              WITHIN THE VISIBLE PLACID HOST

                         ARRIVING INSIDE YOURSELF

                         A SIMPLE, MUTUAL DEAL

                         AT MIDNIGHT

                         (From Pierre Reverdy)

 

 

                         C...

                         CONCENTRATION

                         CONTRIBUTIONS

 

                         F....

                         FORGIVENESS MEANS RELEASE

 

                         G....

                         GOD IS A FREE SPIRIT

 

                         H...

                         HEAR O ISRAEL, THE LORD IS ONE

                         HOLDING TO DIALECTICAL ESSENCES

                              FOR REALITY'S SAKE

 

                         I...

                         I AM:

                         I AM A CHILD FULL OF PROMISES

                         I FED THE KING AND WOUNDED HIM

                         IF GOD BE FOR US...

                         IN THE TIME OF SUNLIGHT

                         IT MAKES US FEEL GOOD TO CONTROL GOD

                                    THROUGH OUR KNOWLEDGE OF GOD

                         I WANT TO FIND THE SOUL OF DOSTOEVSKI

 

                         L...

                         LETS GET THIS INCARNATION THING RIGHT!

                         LET US BECOME WALKING SABBATHS

                         LIFE IN THE WOMB

 

                         M...

                         MARY ONE AND MARY TWO

 

                         P...

                         POEM ON THE HEBREW WORDS

                               TRANSLATED JOY AND SALVATION

                         PURLING

 

                         S...

                         SAVORING CAKE

                         SINGING LIKE LEAVES AND FLYING THINGS   

 

                         T...

                         THE GIFTS OF STRANGE TINY CREATURES

                         THE HUGE HOT SPILL

                         THE SMALLEST PROVISION ELUDES ME

                         THE STUDENT'S QUESTION - THE OLD RABBI'S ANSWER

                         THIS IS THE PEARL OUR SAVIOUR BOUGHT

                         TREES OF GOD

                         TRINITY

 

                         U...

                         UNDERNEATH THE HUMAN FRAILTIES

                              SOMETHING TRUE COMES SHINING

                         UPON A DAY OF RELIGIOUS INQUIERY (FOUR POEMS)

                         UPON THE GOOD AND BROKEN KING

                         UPON THE PRAYER OF FAITH

 

                         W...

                         WE SEEK GOD BECAUSE GOD SEEKS US

                         WHEN THE OURTER WEDS THE INNER WORLD

                         WHERE ARE THE WARRIORS WHO PROTECT THE PRINCE?

                        

                         WISDOM IS A SPONTANIOUS LADY

                         WRITING INTO A TOUCH OF REMEMBRANCE

                         WHY SHOULD MY LILLY CARE

 

                         34 POEMS: LAST ONE - HEAR O ISRAEL

 

 

 

 

                          THE POEMS

 

           --------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                         THE HUGE HOT SPILL

 

                         They say that God is distant,

                         well ordered, reserved,

                         like a nun's tentative breathing

                         in the presence of a beautiful man.

                         But I say that God is hot and huge,

                         rolling in the lightning blue depths

                         of His own being!

                         Mostly, God moves cloud-like

                         through inner, spacious places of the human soul

                         at a rate too slow for mortal sense:

                         but sometimes, when the world

                         weighs too heavily upon Him,

                         He trembles

                         and is felt as a passionate dream,

                         too full of fire and song to be contained

                         even in His own infinite expanses.

                         It is then that He spills over the brim of His being

                         into our being

                         to seize us

                         with His song.

 

 

 

 

 

                    I AM:

                   

 

                    I am the object of another's hopes,

                    of another's dreams,

                    of another's purposes.

                    I am the object of another's love,

                    of another's concern,

                    of another's care.

                    I have been created by another's power.

                    I am the fruit of another's husbandry,

                    the art of another's genius.

                    I am an object becoming

                    an offspring.

                    I share in a life I do not own.

                   

 

 

 

                    HOLDING TO DIALECTICAL ESSENCES FOR REALITY'S SAKE

 

                    The poets are drawn into the dance of the many,

                    the holy luminous mosaic,

                    the diverse, the color rich bouquet,

                    the feast of Elohim.

                    Oh Lord of the flying, flaming hosts,

                    receive our praise!

                    And concurrently they are drawn

                    into the one essence of the essence.

                    Hear O Israel, the Lord our God,

                    the sovereign--our strength among us,

                    our ruling, all powerful towards us--

                    is One Lord. Unique!

                    And the holy poet's cry,

                    "The meaning of our lives

                    is at the source of our being!"

                    and, "We must dance diversities

                    into that luscious harmony

                    which is the sweet juice and fruit

                    of He/She/They who dwell in holy, compassionate,

                    ecstatic

                    and freely creative unity.

 

 

 

 

 

                    UPON A DAY OF RELIGIOUS INQUIERY (FOUR POEMS)

 

                    RELIGIOUS INQUIERY I.

                   

                    On the first morning 

                    the young student, his face framed with spinning curls,

                    caught up with the old rabbi who hobbled down the road

                    "Venerable one, what is piety?" he asked.

                    The old man laughed, shook his beard

                    and spit in the dust.

                    "Ask the birds sonny," he replied

                    rocked back and forth on his toes a few times,

                    then scowled and walked away.

 

                    RELIGIOUS INQUIERY II.

 

                    Undaunted the young man

                    approached the old rabbi

                    who sat on a bench at noon time,

                    slurping his soup.

                    "Venerable one, how can we know God?"

                    the student asked with the intensity

                    of his youthful passion.

                    The old man laughed, wiped his beard

                    on his sleeve and spit on the floor.

                    "Think like a window and open it, Sonny,"

                    he replied, then hovered back over his bowl.

 

                    RELIGIOUS INQUIERY III.

 

                    The young man knocked on the rabbi's door

                    in the evening shadows.

                    Hearing no reply, he peeked through the slats

                    and saw the old man hunched over a holy book

                    which lay before him on a wooden table.

                    The student nervously pushed open

                    the door and stood, hat in hand,

                    shuffling from one foot to the other.

                    The rabbi briskly flipped the pages

                    with his thick fingers and took no note of him.

                    The student, coughed and stuttered out,

                    "Honorable Rabbi,

                    I've come a long way to speak with you.

                    Before I go, could you tell me one more thing?

                    The old man peered up at him

                    through his wiry eyebrows, waiting.

                    The young man took heart.

                    "Venerable Father," he continued,

                    "How should I live to be holy?"

                    The old man's eyes brightened and he suddenly laughed,

                    pulling on his beard with one leathery hand

                    and pounding the other one on the boards.

                    "By Solomon's beard," the old man said,

                    "Audacious, precocious..." he paused,

                    looked hard at the young man,

                    then blew air suddenly out his nostrils.

                    "Sonny, listen now," he said, lifting

                    one hand in the air.  If you want to live

                    you must be alive!

                    Go where you are going and open windows

                    for all holy creatures to swarm into your soul.

                    Start with the birds...

                    Let birds fly into you, singing.

                    Then, if you figure out both worlds

                     where you and the birds are

                    --be a child now!--throw open a space

                    in the center of every bird

                    and pour out through them

                    their own song in human words."

                    He paused, bent over and spit on the

                    floor then looked up with his eyes burning.

                    "Hear now! Are you listening, Sonny?" he asked.

                    The student dumbly nodded.

                    "You sing and sing," the rabbi said,

                    "'Til your song more precious to you than your life.

                    Then you'll have begun to know just a thing or two

                    more than the wind..."

                    With that said, the old man bent over,

                    kissed the holy book,

                    and without a further word blew out his candle,

                    and crawled into bed with his boots on.

                   

 

                    RELIGIOUS INQUIERY IV.

 

                    The young man shook his head,

                    put his hat on in the dark

                    and stumbled outside into the night.

                    He felt like cursing with exasperation.

                    The stars were shimmering in the cold sky.

                    He gazed at a bright one for a long while

                    and began pondering the rabbi's words.

                    Slowly, he started to hum

                    trying to imagined what a starÕs song might be.

                    Suddenly it was as if all questions were being asked

                    in three notes.

                    Then some words came to him, so he sang them

                    towards the sky,

                    "Star which shines with your back to me,

                    I'll sing through you towards eternity."

                    Just like that, he felt like he was being

                    thought of.