JANET HOLMES

poems from The ms of my kin

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1862.1 (272-277)

Captive!

Fainting

Even

But

Perhaps

I’m not ashamed of that

Christ

Do

Commemorate Dishonor

Or

Until it bend as low

Redignified

Again — his voice is at the door

I

I

For

I

MMy face to justify

He never saw me — in this

I

I

I

I

Just

We

A

Each

Just

The other’s

We walk — I leave my Dog

A

Goes

And

Alone

First

Alone

We

On

I’d give — to

The purple — in my Vein —

But

My

Should

In

Or doomed

Next Sun — to die

Or rap — at Paradise — unheard —

I

Until

Civilization

Was

Deserts — never rebuked her

Ethiop

Tawny

She was

Spotted

This was the

Need — a keeper —

Pity — the Pard — that left her

Memories

Cannot

Nor

Going to

Tell

Tell

Tell

And

Tell

Then — how they

And

So

Tell

You

You

As

You

Tell

For

And then you and I, were silenter

Tell

And

And

And begged to be ended —

What

Tell

But

Until

Gesture

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1862.2 (278-287)

That day

Of all the Souls that

I have Elected

When

And Subterfuge

When

Apart

And

Is

When

And Mists — are carved away

Behold

To

The World

Since

A

That bears another’s — name —

A doubt — if it be fair

To

The Man — opon the Woman —

To

A

A

To

So

A

It

Too

Or

Me

Then

A

At Sunset, or a lesser

Flickers

At Day’s superior

We

Till qualified for

Then

And

The

And our new

Learned Gem Tactics

Practising

I should have been

Too

Of

My

This new Circumference — have blamed —

The

I

Too

That

I

That

Recited

Earth

And

I should have had

Without the Fear

The

So

Defeat

The

Endear

‘Tis

‘Tis

Faith bleats to understand

The Zeros

We learned to like

By

And Tinder — guessed — by power

Of

Eclipses

Paralysis

Unto

The

Is

Of

That

And smites

And

‘Tis

And

Distills

‘Tis

And

With

‘Tis this — invites — appalls

Flits

Returns — suggests

Then

Dropped

Wearing the

Bonnet

Brooch

Horses

Baggage

Journey of Down — and Whip

Riding

While

Until Death touches

While it

Dwell

Under

Show

Love

Love

Love

Scooping up the Dust and chanting “Live”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1862.4 (292-293)

I got so

Without — Tremendous

That Stop-sensation

And Thunder —

I

That

Where

And

I

In

Without that forcing,

As

Could

I

Renowned to ease Extremity —

When

And

Petition’s

Tho’ ignorant

That

My Business —

If any Power

Not subject to

It

For

As

Itself

A

Is all that pins the Soul

That

Opon

Once

It’s name is put away

As far from mine, as if no plight

Had

In

My eyes just turned

When

Into Eternity —

More

One

Just granted, for the Peril’s

Some

So greater than

They

Will let it’s Keepsake —

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1862.5 (294-300)

A Weight

To

That

The

That

Of all this

As

As

Father

That

I bring thee the imperial Heart

I had not strength to hold —

The

Till

Yet

Is

Where

On

Fantastic

And

This

These

Where

These — are the Western Mystery!

Night after Night

Her

Strews

Merchantmen

Dip — and vanish like Orioles!

The Doomed

With different Delight —

Because

They

The Man — to die — tomorrow —

Harks

Because

That

Joyful —

Precedes

Joyful —

Has

Did

Just one

Charge

But

Were

What

Love

Oh

Unto

How Kinsmen

Brothers and Sisters — who preferred the Glory

And their

Bent

Till God’s

When

And

Unto

Worn

By

Of

Such

That

Step martial

As

Feet, small as mine — have march

Firm

Hands

When

Let

Drilled

Beckoning

Toward

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1862.24 (363-367)

I know a place wher

With such a practised

She

Recording

But

And

Her

And she pours soft Refrainsd

Into the lap of Adamant

And

That

Opon

As

As cool to

As numb

As

As

As near yourself

As Children, toscarf

Or

To

How dumb the

While Color’s Revelations

And

I know that He

Somewhere — in silence —

He has hid

From our gross eyes.

‘Tis

‘Tis

Just to make Bliss

Earn her own surprise!

But

Prove

Should

In Death’s — stiff — stare —

Would

Look

Would not

Have crawled too

He

Did

Shook my strong trust —

Did

Hurled

But — did he

Racked

Not a nerve failed!

Wrung

But

Tho’ for what wrong

He did

Stabbed

His

Jesus

Don’t

I

Bright

My

Rip

Geraniums

Low

My

To

Carnations — tip their

And

A

Puts out a Ruffled Head —

And odors s fall

From

You marvel how they held —mall

Globe

Opon

Yet

I had as leaf they boreDraped

Janet Holmes is author of F2F, due from University of Notre Dame Press in October, as well as Humanophone, The Green Tuxedo, and The Physicist at the Mall. She teaches in the MFA program at Boise State University, where she also edits Ahsahta Press.

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