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22. Mass of Maundy Thursday Here is the edge, the end Of the world, here are the mountains And the smooth sea, and afterwards The howling gulf, the dragon Shifting in his sleep. Today we gather on the mountain Under the scorching sun, to see him pass (His step wrinkles the standing sea), Dancing Upon the mountain as he goes Treading the vintage with his bloodstained feet, How beautiful upon the mountains, Mountain of spices, under the apple tree, my love, And casting grain behind him as he goes, Casting his corpse behind him as he goes John Barley corn upon the stone, And blackening in the heat, for he Has fallen on the outer scarp, And roused the hungry dragon, see! The flesh dissolving in the sun. Caught in the nomansland hysteria of despair, We parody his falling dance In savage and desirous mockery, only We find we cannot fall with him. But tipsy with his vintage, know His seed has rooted us and see! The Son dissolving in our flesh. Oh root of God and tree of man And sun that floods away the sky... Cup us to catch your falling light To warm us in tomorrow's night. rdw - mar 1972 23. God as a girl-friend... God as a girl-friend stood in a room while I lat down on the wicker chair and talked about nothing to show I was lost - I couldn’t make out what wasn’t there. God, on the window-sill, calmly heard, sat in the dark, unscared and still - while I grew scared as the dark grew around and picked up my pen to chase off the fear. nothing moved to move my pen, I failed in finding a sign to display I talked to my girl-friend and riddled along; what’s a girl-friend for as day breaks away? God, placid, placed a palm on my knee kissed my lips - lay on the bed next to me - and the man and woman wall of berlin fell down in the town of a crumbling pride. and my girl-friend did all that was needed though I’d lain by his side - a virgin and scared and we lay until God decided to use me using my body to build up a home and I learnt to give pleasure of love and my labour from love is no longer denied. ijf 24. What if the consummation of my life... What if the consummation of my life Was to talk to you this afternoon? Or of yours for you to talk with me? How might this bear On our discussion of vocation? jdy - feb.1971 25. Norcross Avenue - Il y a cinq ans Mercury green lights the pitted yellow flags I step upon Slowly Wandering home But not home For I but visit. Stars show there is no cloud; Concrete pillars stand in lieu of moon Illuminate my way In the town that is mine Yet does not know me. Dry wind blasts the empty street My way is on But heavy drag my feet Pensively Yet not in sober reflection But with emotion. Sharp thrill of nerve that ripples through my frame: Just then, the passive ‘I’ is self-aware And, yet unknown, unloved, and knowing then That same aloneness Which throws that ‘I’ upon an unresponsive world That will not answer Yet still permits communion With untold others - unsung and with no name - Who earlier claimed this town or street as home (As if an abstract could possess!) Who with me played - won, lost - this fragile game. jdy - april 1972 26. Song for Advent I shut the city door, come out here On dark soil sucked by dark wind To throw my seedless words against the earth, Speaking myself to nakedness. Here I must unknow that there was ever fire My hands had formed, that there was ever Light of my making. That there were ever Words my mouth had shaped. That I have ever seen A time that was not winter. Can there be any day but this, Though many suns to shine endeavour? And fail here in the unhelped night. I have forgotten how to raise the sun. And must be taught To lean against the wind. The wind has taken my dropped words, I do not know If it will send them back again, But gives me words That speak my nakedness and do not clothe. ‘Maranatha’. Even so come, amen. rdw

Occasional Impressions Poetry Collections - The Gemini Poets (1972)