Bruce Beaver Poems
|2.||Death's Directives (I)||4/30/2012|
|3.||Death's Directives (Ii)||4/30/2012|
|4.||East Of Atlan||4/30/2012|
|5.||Lauds And Plants (Xiv)||4/30/2012|
|6.||Letters To Live Poets (Vi)||4/30/2012|
|7.||Letters To Live Poets (Xii)||4/30/2012|
|11.||Poem For Adrienne Rich (I)||4/30/2012|
|12.||Poem For Adrienne Rich (Ii)||4/30/2012|
|13.||Poems For Adrienne Rich (Iv)||4/30/2012|
|18.||Poems For Adrienne Rich (Iii)||4/30/2012|
|19.||Letters To Live Poets (I)||4/30/2012|
At the foot of a northern pylon of the Harbour Bridge
I have kept my vigil since the mighty span was built.
I come early in the day from worn-out corners of the area
and sit when the sun is out until the waning afternoon,
thence to another role, another manifestation of duty.
On my way I pass a cavern echoing with traffic noise.
When the sun is setting it blazes up like a testing tunnel
of the cosmic fire at the beginning and ending of universes.
It reminds me we are not that far in time from a kalpa’s ending.
More than four thousand million years in the ...
Outside the cathedral at five
the cats congregated and I was fulfilled
feeding them. I would shuffle
in my modest skirt and tatty shawl
towards the drinking fountain, its base
sprayed with the territorial signatures
of toms warmed by the effusions
of tabbies. The air charmed by a broken
mewing, the cheap scraps replaced