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80 pages, Hardcover
First published April 1, 1985
On these blustery morningswhile the "Mississippi Winter" poems are at once peaceful and aggressive, simple and layered reminisces on a time and place, describing herself in terms of: "She was not happy/with fences" and certain that she "must whistle/like a woman undaunted" until she reaches her end--regardless of the anticipated lack of a "good" end. Finally "These Days" is a long poem and a call to love and preservation. She describes many people, each full of love, compassion, and joy followed by a haunting refrain of "Surely the Earth can be saved for [name]" ending with the final inhabitant being simply "us":
in a city
that could be wet
from my kisses
I need nothing else.
And then again,
I need it all.
These days I think of Robert
folding his child's tiny shirts
eating TV dinners ("A kind of processed flavor")
rushing off each morning to school--then to the office,
the supermarket, the inevitable meeting: writing,
speaking, marching against oppression, hunger,
ignorance.
And in between having affair
with tiny wildflowers and gigantic
rocks.
We Alone
We alone can devalue gold
by not caring
if it falls or rises
in the marketplace.
Wherever there is gold
there is a chain, you know,
and if your chain
is gold
so much the worse
for you.
Feathers, shells
and sea-shaped stones
are all as rare.
This could be our revolution:
to love what is plentiful
as much as
what's scarce.
But
wasn't there a time
when food was sacred?
When a dead child
starved naked
among the oranges
in the marketplace
spoiled
the appetite?
You would choose
not to come back again,
you say.
Except perhaps
as rock or tree.
But listen, love. Though human,
that is what you are
already
to this student, absorbed.
Human tree and rock already,
to me.