Poems 1. Alone 2. Anna 3. And while I’m at It, Lord, 4. The day I fell down his eyes 5. The Day Poem 6. Delusion 7. Dimensions 8. Elevator Boy 9. For Starters 10.Garst’s Head 11.Grey Dawn 12.God’s Eye 13.If My Arms Were Long Enough 14.Language Launch 15.A Modest Proposition 16.Missile Toes Midnight Races the Devil 17.Now 18.A Penny-Candy Day 19.Rhapsody 20.Sea Bottom 21.Spare Her 22.Strewn 23.Western Union Calling 24.Whentime 25.Wordsmithing
Poems Alone Alice Anna Reese Loneliness, known in religious circles as sin, that is, isolation without consolation, (with or without medication) tripwires into explosions of despondency depression despair Comprehension (contrary to current thought) with its reliance on gravity, will not relieve the grief Only I – I am – the great I am (though not so great) can float the quicksand of despair trusting that the rope, the hand, will rescue me or the movement of the supersaturate will carry me to firm dry land where gravity will bolster me Otherwise, I’ll have to laugh all the way down March 18, 1998
Anna Alice Anna Reese Looking at her you can see it, The almost answer. It’s in her feet, So long, so light They hop, skip over tomorrow Like wispy clouds over wispy trees. It’s in her toes that turn and turn and turn And limbs outflung And laughter that’s all Mozart In a mirror mirror room. It’s in her still eyes. Eyes that reach down into her knees That see inside the grass And behind the sky. Eyes so deep in today Tomorrow can’t brim the box And yesterday’s a smudge. Next year or the year after Straps will pull her ankles down Her heels will touch. Puzzles will twit her eyes She’ll fall into question. But maybe, maybe, she’ll be Strong enough to cut the straps. Then hand over foot over hand She’ll cartwheel into clarity Dropping the bottom out of today Sinking leaping into a shining Velvet brightness And have forever’s answer.
And while I’m at it, Lord, For bellows that breathe And hearts that pump For kidneys that filter And hoses that dump For tents that sniff And caves that taste For the feeling fabric In which we’re encased For fist-sized pots self-stirring, Electrical systems with servos whirring For white cell wresters And red cell porters For shells that hear And balls that see And all the things That make up me,
Thanks a bunch. Alice Anna Reese
The day I fell down his eyes Alice Anna Reese The day I fell down his eyes, he bounced on the pillow of my heart We kisspurred sweet things in each other’s ears Swam dusk to dawn where green blends with pelagic blue Crawled wet and muddy through a Stygian cave Climbed up a rock crevice, emerged into heavenly blue I knew the aromatic topology of his body The freckled sweat of high places, the peaty smell of lows Lips entwined, we danced limber gavottes Our son bore delicate ears, Seashell images of the pale moon TWiG Anthology
The Day Poem Alice Anna Reese
From under slumber she crept, A poem devoid of form and inspiration, Dragging a mist net in her wake. In the predawn chill ideas were snagged, They struggled, she soothed. Most escaped, a few cast away, Some stashed for later, one banded for the day. They soared, they whirred, the idea and the poem, Lips brushing lips, inspiring both. “Let’s dig for words,” she whispered, “For sounds in the ground.” Some dwelling in spelling, Were spilled or spoilt. The kept were dripped In ink pooled in sinks. As the sun rose high, he tossed wet words; She hung them on stretched lines to dry. A wafting breeze mingled their hair Urging them to dance. Ideas embraced poem’s trim waist, They leapt, they whirled. She tickled his toes and played his ribs till they fell in heaps of giggles At dusk they fed each other sensuous lines As contented they lay in the fading light, “Later?” he pressed with joy. “No,” poem replied, now coy. “I’ve other ideas for the night.”
Delusion Alice Anna Reese Nothing goes away There’s only dilution And mists of pollution But no diminution Cause Nothing, no matter what, Disappears from here
September 29, 1998
Dimensions Alice Anna Reese Can you, like me, see Up and down and round and round? From front to back is length. From side to side is width. And depth, my friend, Is up to the sky and down to the ground. ‘Cause we’re in a three dimensional cable car Riding a line called time. A cube and a sphere Can really be here: They’ve length and width And depth. A skinny square And a paper-thin circle Are called two-dimensional. But look again– They’ve tiny depth– ‘Cause we can’t see Less than 3-d. And a line no matter how fine– The slenderest tittle on t– Can’t be one-d. If we can see it at all, It has width and depth No matter how small. And a dot Is not A lot You could call it no-d. But it wouldn’t be me ‘Cause I know it can’t be so: Dot has a narrow diameter And depth–though a tiny parameter.
A tesseract is pretty cool
A four-d cube that’s drawn in school But not possible here We haven’t enough dimensions In spite of our lofty intentions Maybe there could be more than four: Maybe there’s seven, or even eleven, The extra dimensions tied up in a string! For the moment we can’t do a thing about it ‘Cause we’re locked in this car with just three d’s. And, as far as I can tell, they’ve thrown away the keys.
Elevator Boy Alice Anna Reese Hi Mom, Got me a summer job On the new flash elevator to the moon It’s more than that, Mom, It’s a million, FIFTY THOUSAND kilometers away, A three and a half second dash. It’s really slick, I don’t get sick, And my hours are great, Mom, Moonrise to noon. Thanks for the call, Love you too, Mom. See you in the fall.
For Starters Alice Anna Reese There was a thin film Scattered throughout the universe Lasting an immeasurable amount of time On this inert matrix of information A dot appeared That barely rippled, Lengthened, deepened, Created fissures, time, intelligence, Separating order from chaos All had been silent, With a silence so deep It would have swallowed your eyes. Sound was born with a rage No wounded supernova could match. This subatomic thunder traced The spherical expansion of intelligence, Slowed, cooled, quietened, Until it got us here, where ... blueSHIFT: A Journal of Poetry, W ’98 & Sp ’99
Garst’s Head Alice Anna Reese Not above the others, Just a whole different kind: His head a boulder Wrapped in skin lariats could be made from ---or boots Patched in places, worn and wrinkled, Sewn together like some old football. This head, surmounted By a nest of soft, wild hurricanes, Hides electrical storms of such strength The earth is morphed, Whole universes created August 26, 2002
Grey Dawn Alice Anna Reese I love midwinter When snowstars fall through the black sky (Their glinty shards pierce raw earth Swathe the bleeding clay in thick layers of white gauze) When wind shrieks the anguish of A childless woman newly widowed Moans Then leaves behind smooth sculpted walls of snow Ringing the house like fortress walls I love grey dawn Before the colors bud and bloom When bridal curtains veil the morning scene When birds call out by ones and twos And I am just another grey shape in a smudged world TWiG Anthology
God’s Eye Alice Anna Reese In a black hole White light glints From obsidian depths, Races through he halls of space To touch your cheek Your eyes pop open to see– Dawn streak the sky red Tinged with orange, The yellow sun free itself From the rigid horizon To shine on lush green leaves, Long afternoon haze Under the blue sky, Velvet evening close In indigo and violet hues. After rain, when Day’s colors align And the rainbow ribbon Arcs across the sky, I’ll sneak a little strip for you And whisper in your ear That I, like God, love you The Communication Bridge
If My Arms Were Long Enough Alice Anna Reese If my arms were long enough I’d fold you to my breast, dear Earth, And tuck fresh atmosphere around your face I’d kiss the spots where forests were clear cut Where rich farmland is rutted with erosion I’d wipe pollution from your skies And brush away the pests that cause you pain Then weep a gentle, healing rain If my arms were long enough
Language Launch Alice Anna Reese Psst, pop, plop, fizz, hush--Buzz, burble, paws, claws, wait--Sing, shout, reed, red, black, blank--Moon glitter, sun sputter. I run. You jump. We prey, pray, playing. Language lurches. Sentences with objects form, Singly first, become the norm. Simply compound, and then complex. Dangling, participled ... Particles hang around. Language languishes. Statements are declared. “Order,� impered. Why do questions arise? Surprise! Language launched.
Missile Toes Midnight Races the Devil Alice Anna Reese Grandpa was dying, snow changed to sleet One child clasp his hand, the other his feet The devil burst in, sizzling black The children screamed and went on attack The devil screeched, “He’s mine, back off” But the girls were tough, the devil gone soft “I’ll make you a deal,” the devil squeaked out “Just stop your scratching and plug up your shout” The devil bled green, cried “Gramp’s soul for your filly” Julie went for his eyes, Meg clawed willynilly “I’ll race you,” he screamed. “Gramp’s soul for the horse When winter turns spring, Milky Way the race course” Now Gramps was a drinker and given to ravings He cursed and he roared and he’d gambled his savings There wasn’t no question that Gramps was a sinner But one Christmas night the old man was a winner The foal that he won was deep midnight black With holes for her legs, red bows tied a sack As a gift for the children he carried her home With a silver hoof pick and a gold currycomb Missile Toes Midnight is what they had called her With a mare mourned her foal is where they installed her Grandpa had always brought them neat treats Tiny, shiny toys and pepperminty sweets He hugged the kids tight and told them ghost stories Filled with adventure and oodles of gories They loved the old man with his sparkly blue eyes Julie patched his black suits; Meg made him fruit pies It’s a cold day in March, the red sun is setting The kids harness Toes not a moment regretting The chance they are taking but wondering how Without some good luck they are going to win now
From deep in the shadows an old hag appears Horse-faced in rags, she mutters “My dears Here’s stardust for Toes and a cape for yourselves Stay to the right and watch for sea shells” She’s fading from sight when the last ray of sun Flashes over the hills like a shot from a gun The devil appears with his twenty hand stallion Legs supple like birches chest wide as a galleon Two bright-eyed horses take off at a dash But Missile Toes slides to her knees with a crash The old devil laughs as he puts up his whip But the girls scramble down at the start of the slip Sprinkle Toes’ hooves with the magic stardust Then sprinkle the wheels for additional thrust Race up by the Sheep fold, the Bull pen, the Twins, The children are lagging dragged down by Gramp’s sins Down at the seashore the Crab eats the light King Coal slows his pace, but the filly takes flight The stars rain down, the kids don their cape The sulky is covered, the filly is draped Coal rears on his legs when a huge Lion roars While overhead the fleet filly soars Passed the bright Virgin and justice with Scales The kids’ filly leads, the great stallion trails Coal mounts the steep track, up to the right Where a poisonous Scorpion jumps into sight Toes veers to the rail Satan singes her tail The girls cry “Foul,” the Archer takes aim Shoots King Coal’s right leg making him lame The devil leaps down, yanks the tip from Coal’s hock Sneers at the Archer, slings back the sharp rock Up through the stars the black horses fly The drivers are breathless, their bikes are awry Through the Goat pasture, along the cliff brink
Beside a creek bank where the bike wheels sink Passing Bearers of buckets with water from wells Down to the seashore littered with shells Toes runs in the sea foam, there’s low hanging fog Coal runs on the sea shells, cutting his frog Two fishes swim by as the black horses race The night sky turns pale as two tired horses pace Nostril to nostril, Heaven’s host cheers Toes on –– Till she breaks the first sunbeam and enters the dawn Toes wins by a breath, praise singers are gay Toes gets a cooler, is hand fed sweet hay The old devil loses. He curses. He swears He mutters. He threatens. But nobody cares. The girls sneak away to where Grandpa lies His face is scowling, dark rings round his eyes “Did you cool off the filly and rub her down good?” Then turns with a smile, unfolds till he stood Up from his bed at his full giant height He bear hugs the girls with all of his might “I love you two, I’ll do my best” And from that day the three are blessed Their Grandpa lives for many more years Then passes away –– oh, there are tears But the girls are proud he’d turned a leaf And hundreds come to share their grief Their Toes goes to pasture after the run Where she mothers three fillies and a long-legged son But they lack their dam’s fire: The old hag won’t tell That Missile Toes Midnight was stolen from Hell! TWiG Anthology reprinted in Scouting Around, vol.2, December 2000
A Modest Proposition Alice Anna Reese Here we are looking around our tiny cube of vibrant color Surrounded by a very large electromagnetic spectrum That may be within a many-dimensional charm of strings That could be one of many vibrating universes That’s playing our tune Shall we dance, my dear?
Now Alice Anna Reese ‘Now’ is perched on the tip of a snail’s stalk eye weaving through space in some incomprehensible pattern determined by a force whose vision is partially obscured by a consciousness perched on its tip.
blueShift: A Journal of Poetry Winter ’98 & Spring ’99
A Penny-Candy Day Alice Anna Reese A cheerful day A Deirdre day of spiders and cloud scuttling sky Red and white striped barber pole day Not deep, but wide enough To smile even today. Bedclothes tangle a deep green morning Eyes newly open like a week old kitten’s A dream-wrapped drive through A postcard collection of Victorian farmlands Whole wheat bread that resists an easy bite An oaken floor, planks creak. Deirdre guides Down the steps into the woods The path rutted with roots Strewn with plants flaunting tiny flowers, Then emerge in sunlight Climb to the hilltop where the breeze is brisk. Lake, ocean, sky, clouds, hills, cows, beetles, hawks, ducks Red clover, pungent yarrow, spiny rose, grazing, lazing cows Words rampant on the page “a lullaby blue barn”. Bryanton, Cousins, Campbell––Island names a century old Faye, “I’ve got to go milk the cows” Reluctant now, “I’ve got to go milk the cows” Sadly, “I’ll try to get back in time...” I reach for her, try to say don’t go, Want this nowly time to stay. Console myself with a wagon ride behind Sam’s big burnished-gold rump, His horsey smell. Three salads and a slice of dry turkey later Boisterous pitch-poor singers and kidding dancers Nudge our laps. The barn overflowed with chairs, Crowded the designated stage to barely there. It rained stars on the way home. Kindred Spirits
Rhapsody Alice Anna Reese A breeze filigrees a melody in a minor key, Insects harmonize. Crickets fiddle a wild rhythm. A lone beetle thrums for his mate. Pollen pirouettes from stamen to pistil As grass tufts touch Spring symphony. Dancetime. TWiG Anthology
Sea Bottom Alice Anna Reese For millions of years Billions, more likely, The sea floor was layered with Single celled scum catchers These waste-handling dirt mongers Processed the feces, the corpses, the garbage That rained through the ocean above Remounting the ocean Some debris refloated Fed weeds fueled by sunlight Formed clouds of, great crowds of Small free-swimming plankton From slime molds to fungi to algae to Bacteria in all their incarnations, The waste was consumed and digested, Recycled, refloated, Again and again and again. When trawlers scored the ocean floor, Destroyed the communities, Obscured the sunlight, Disrupted the million-year, billion-year harmony, Churned all to chaos in silent cacophony, The cod disappeared TWiG Anthology
Spare Her Alice Anna Reese Spare my friend, Lord–– Not the end itself, But screaming pain through sleepless nights, Mechanized death at hospital hands, Embarrassment at messing herself over and over again She won’t rage, she won’t whimper But I cannot promise she won’t be terrified When the end comes, When the eyes of death capture her And the thick black lashes close round her Spare her, Lord–– Drop her in the thorny-rosed dawn while she sleeps, Or grant her a last foolish giggle TWiG Anthology
Strewn Alice Anna Reese When I met you I was scattered Pieces of me strewn across the sky You gathered me up Held me in your arms And let me go Then gathered me up again And again Until somehow I stuck together I am grateful from my toes I love you with every molecule of my being You gave me the greatest gift, You gave me myself
Western Union Calling Alice Anna Reese 14 billion years ago I tucked this photon in my pocket A message from the nursery of the universe Mounted my bicycle rocket Rode through the cold black alleys of space Dodging white dwarfs and hot red giants Particles of lacy stars in firecracker skies To reach the Hubble guy If you’ve a cuppa java and a quark I’ll wait for a reply blueShift: A Journal of Poetry Winter ’98 & Spring ’99
Whentime Alice Anna Reese Before time all that mattered was compressed into a pointless dot. When God giggled He jiggled a quark. A spark ignited electrons Separated from positrons In a celestial divorce With a bang up party, And all hell broke loose TWiG Anthology
Wordsmithing Alice Anna Reese How does a word taste? Does it crunch or crumble? Is it fluid enough for poems Or foundation material to lay essays on Or the billowy ephemerata of dreams? Does a word skip over bumpy, gravel roads like rambunctious Or lie low and take the long view like perspective? Will it make a point like dot Or continue to swiggle in mouth and mind? Poems are craft But poets are daft. Common Ground