Poems From Yesterday - Rucha, Lauren, Ken - April 21

WEAVER

The Weaver weaves

A life, a man, a story to tell—

"37 years to come to this point"

And a pattern is born

Strand by strand into cloth

Sound by sound into poem

From all the far-flung cosmic notes

And from all the encounters

Of a human soul.

This, then, is something we can

Wear for warmth, when we feel

The "obscurity of an order, a whole," *

Something wrapped as a shawl around

The emptiness that can never be filled.

An origin, a universe, a story to tell—

13 billion years to come to this point

And we are a young species, naked birds

Traveling along a shimmering curve of beauty.

The Weaver, keeper of the strands,

Preserver of what works,

Lover to stories and mystery

From whose loom as womb stardust unfolds;

Weaver, the spider-mystic,

Along whose web-strands

The great Unseen moves,

Giving birth through holy vibration—

The long deliberation of stars,

The fertile simmer of soul

Carried as embers by the poet

To rekindle, each evening,

A candle at the hearth

That lights the dreamer awake.

—K. Lauren de Boer

April, 2008

* "obscurity of an order, a whole" from "Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour," Wallace Stevens. The image of the shawl is from the same poem.

Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour

Light the first light of evening In which we rest and, for small reason, think The world imagined is the ultimate good. This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous. It is in that thought that we collect ourselves, Out of all the indifferences, into one thing: Within a single thing, a single shawl Wrapped tightly round us, since we are poor, a warmth, A light, a power, the miraculous influence. Here, now, we forget each other and ourselves. We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole, A knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous. Within its vital boundary, in the mind. We say God and the imagination are one... How high that highest candle lights the dark. Out of this same light, out of the central mind, We make a dwelling in the evening air, In which being there together is enough. Wallace Stevens Message From Mark I'm following the tour daily with great pleasure and enjoying all the contributions - especially the mobile poems. I must admit your journey does brings back certain times and feelings. From 18 to 20 I crisscrossed the US several times hitchhiking etc and some moments were pure poetry, as best I knew. I remember arriving to a beautiful bluff on an empty road in Utah before sunrise. The sunrise so overwhelmed us, was so beautiful and moving, that we were dancing and jumping for joy. I'm sure you're having lots of little adventures and encounters along the way. One of the special occasions when hitchhiking were the times meeting and entering the world of someone(s) who, normally, I would have never met in a part of the country that was all new to me. A big hug to everyone on the bus! Mark