in transition

for WCW

I wish I understood the beauty

in leaves falling. To whom

are we beautiful

as we go?

I lie in the field

still, absorbing the stars

and silently throwing off

their presence. Silently

I breathe and die

by turns.

He was ripe

and fell to the ground

from a bough

out where the wind

is free

of the branches 

~ David Ignatow (1914-1997)

from Against the Evidence: selected poems 

...

Attempting To Answer David Ignatow’s Question

I wish I understood the beauty

in leaves falling. To whom

are we beautiful

as we go?

We are beautiful to the Mother as we go.

There are mysterious roads in jade that

Old men follow,

Routes that migratory birds walk on,

The circle dances

Iron filings do,

The things we cannot say.

Salmon find their way to old beds;

Sleeping bodies are not alone.

~ Robert Bly 

 from Holes That Crickets Have Eaten in Blankets

photo by Eliot Porter

rescue the dead

Finally, to forgo love is to kiss a leaf,

is to let rain fall nakedly upon your head,

is to respect fire,

is to study man’s eyes and his gestures

as he talks,

is to set bread upon the table

and a knife discreetly by,

is to pass through crowds

like a crowd of oneself.

Not to love is to live.

To love is to be led away

into a forest where the secret grave

is dug, singing, praising darkness

under the trees.

To live is to sign your name,

is to ignore the dead,

is to carry a wallet

and shake hands.

To love is to be a fish.

My boat wallows in the sea.

You who are free,

rescue the dead.

~ David Ignatow

the signal

How can I regret my life

when I find the blue-green traffic light

on the corner delightful against the red brick

of my house. It is when the signal turns red

that I lose interest. At night

I am content to watch the blue-green

come on against the dark

and I do not torture myself

with my shortcomings.

~ David Ignatow

content

I should be content

to look at a mountain

for what it is

and not a comment on my life.

~ David Ignatow

art from the song dynasty