For a Walk in the Park
on the Night of the Strawberry Moon

More than unstudied
- as though before I learned to pose;
more than unjaded
- as though before I'd once thought That Again;
more than unedited
- as though before language, even Alef;
before they showed up to be named
- fear anger sorrow -
I am wholly unscreened
by your smiles.
At your touch
I dissolve
to the forgotten land
of a faded snapshot:
There where longings never cease
because they never cease to be the same as laughing
a red-haired babe exults for love of Butterflies
and Everything. With open hands arms heart
she holds a world that offers such as butterflies
- being held by it, too.

I am less than one year old with you
and better, stranger: more
than She of the Blue Stroller
for somehow she grew
- somewhere alone, of course;
thus unhurt. And uncautioned.
With your gentlest kisses, you found her
behind me. I never knew.
As though we can re-
wind past retrospect, before reflection
and then advance, not just unfraught
but utterly unfreighted
my lips against your skin
may move unplanned; unhesitating:
unselfconsciously brave
despite knowing what Brave is.
True, I have miles of words these days
and galleries of poses
- yet I am all simplest
yesses, for you.

Somewhere Else I Am

somewhere else I am there is
a man with two walking sticks
and a beard full of cherries and almonds;
by a skyful of sea
in a seaful of sky
balloons don't burst
when the parrots nibble them for breakfast
sunshine beads to a rain

and its fall
sounds the waves
like marimbas;
when I lie very very still
I always find I'm dancing
and in the quietest place between two willows
it's hard to tell right now
whose hands
are in
whose hair

Watching the Planets Remember

Once more yet, let orison sound
from our earth
for its deep preparation.
As the first spring moon waxes to round;
rebirth is resounded by trumpeting daffs
and forsythias also blare
Yellow
while bold amidst the timid sticks
globe willows whisper
Green.

Yes, afresh let prayers ring
in this season.
The swallows have returned
to Capistrano, even
and this very night
brings parity of dark and bright.
Tomorrow will manifest
light's conquest
Again:
It begins.

Just two more spins
until the Worm Moon rises.

New roses scent my rooms.



Background for this page is from Roxy's Renditions.
Poems are 1986, 1994, 2011 Katherine Anne Harris. All Rights Reserved.