tiny poems by Grant Hackett
to fill the void with light there is eye
to fill the earth with peace there is heart
to fill the soul with god there is pain
just enough darkness to forest the world :: then light dawns in one leaf
last drops of rain in hands of a breeze stirring what others need
in the throb beneath a drop of blood :: i feel my wounds at war
against life's full strength i feel the threat of rebirth throbbing through the night
in the oar i've abandoned i long for the sea
when its suffering's washed away :: what remains of clay
if there's a gate it will be left open
if there's a border the dead may guide you over
but follow no road where it goes
let's awake in the garden others can't see
naked as the moon turning dust to dream
a crystal drop tips each twig
chickadee calls drift away
i enter a willow at dusk in the rain
does water remember the child in its arms bleeding his beautiful pearls of breath
i set out candles at daybreak to keep some darkness near
there is sky in my arrow :: there is no path to my sky
can you remember the touch of your hand as it gave you the power to heal
is memory the only place the dead are given light to see
comes a lover who wears the body of the moon
has a heart that refuses to burn
days are finished, life is barely begun
shooting star with the strangest ending :: eyes of the living
hands unravel
wheelbarrow topples
soul rejoices in flame
shapes created by the gods of pine—
ships on a cliff
a cross without arms
on which side of my skin is sky
i dream of hundreds of broken windows
and of she who reveals
the stone in my heart
will there be a brief moment, infinite,
to take this in—
i have gone the great distance bound in one skin
singing to be alone and not alone sweep sweep my aging path
how the cave where we could see really see there are openings
became the star
i hold inside
how strange that nowhere should be nearby :: like the wound in my sip of wine
my sun is not substance but naked :: to the infinite shadows of light
dead wood beautiful failures
forgotten rains
this is the light that leads my way
in the valley that opens when no one is looking :: the seeds of your eyes have been sown
there are days windows sleep
there are days when death hides in yesterday's breeze
why is silence peaceful in a forest of wounded trees
a hand reaches down
a friend stays the night
a fly sits in prayer since winter
dream looked around inside the child
found room burned
a Ferris wheel down
rain alone there has never been :: rain on morning skin
will all that is stone return to flesh
isn't deep where old snows fall
whose hand understands the genius of its palm
a circle of stones
where the circle doesn't close
death comes and goes
bound together
grains of sand begin to breathe
we shall hear the oceans drowning
strange to be immortal
stars tasting my mouth
i shall grow a yellow house
the art of birth :: that there will be one who shall not remember
first day of life
the moon counting
its delicate birds
streets walking with their heads held low :: i climb a distant radio
what did blue see from its window before it became an eye
a voice for things which don't exist :: i am egyptian in silence
are the passages missing from my shadow
written
on a fallen leaf
found asleep beside the weariness of spring
your mother when she was young
yet changed
a man breaks down
who was it you ask, what
was the weight of the stone
keeper of the solitary soul
permit me space
among the flocks of this earth
on a day without sound
adrift on a lake
my grave is unhurried
my hands cry out all night in their sleep
dawn rises
a hole in its palm
inside the dying of my apple tree
the sky is cold
the earth is green
grasses
grow over my roof
a message drifts through the sky
do you know stones go blind when you kiss their eyes
who can ferry the sea out of its fog
hands and truths shall be broken
we know
when a rainbow
lord, why do i grow cold trying to keep you alive
am i a petal waiting
for the sun’s eye to open
or the sky who’s chased
a small bird into breath
when did i learn that blue
is the planet of our death
can i say i love you
when there's no shore in sight
when mystery only mystery
may be all that survives
they feed the dead a cold sun :: we in the black beret
when you grow up i will have been so many years risen from the dead
why has the statue missing one hand :: chosen this morning to speak
when the moon is ripe :: why doesn't it fall from its tree
all night long knowing and not knowing the figure asleep on the shore
i showed her where i fell home :: she showed me the scar she left on the sky
every first sunrise preserves my belief :: in a deeper, older fire
white coffin
now the waters are freed of ice
and the four directions repair the wind
and the fields rise up to heaven....
for love of the ocean floor :: eyes turn to the open sea
who plays the flute that shapes my bones
if i am not certain
of the love of the earth
is it safe to take my life from your hands
the compass turns to a lone, dry wasp
in the silence of the alarms
all voices burn
what is thirst will find its way
when no one is looking
modest beatings
beneath a sky that may or may not answer
i bring out my heart
i begin to read
beneath my hands the axe splits open
on which side of death
is rest
because there was this inside them
the tea cup cracked
the face ceased
when they are the last
and left behind
will the living waters speak
winter
in a stranger's tongue
no doubt the house
has honest blood
thus i was made
vein laid upon vein
no trace of yes in water
or blood
no name and no
odor of wound
life leaves its artist’s mark
small, red—
then weeps that i live, bled
wind is not the death of light :: darkness does not quicken withered leaves
upon the death of the mortal vine :: shall my veins grow new wine
(reposted/revised from January 2021)
umbrella, old, unclaimed :: endured the attic of my rain
in the perfect darkness of what is to become :: who cradles the mother of dawn
escape is the timeless lie :: my path never strays from its crow
With a piece of chalk, I drew on the blackboard the moon's golden eyebrow.
Yannis Ritsos
playing in the clouds :: my soul smells of earth
the shipwrecked surely shall learn to sing those songs that built the sea
With a bird for a pillow, I lie awake every night.
wind, carry us into my house :: the moon won't open for hours
fisherman gather me in :: fall back to your place in the sea
winter sharpened
mortal sky
blood-tipped locust
thorn, at
the point of joy
i hear sighs and silence
dormant forest
dark in the east, my city
laid to rest
stone saint
an engine
idles
the sky
longs to be known
(or)
stone saint, an engine idles :: sky longs to be known
there’s never enough earth
to drink our tears
love
it takes years
white bone
on the beach
where i wanted to walk alone
life death
put flame
in an iron box
who feeds
that flame
can never stop
music of the lake when it is ice
rapturous crackings
before and after
the first and last of life
some forget to breathe and dream :: ways of seeing fall like leaves
journey begins ::
bell to wind
storm clouds but no storm
three journeys
in last night's dreams
rain brings back
the mist, the bridge
the desire to remain in my body
the wound is littler
the moon is warmer
since you share salt with me
heart
white blossom
in continuous rain
eternal dying flame
when sparrow knelt inside your heart :: how many were the shadows