Newmarket

Part I

I remember quite a bit

even though some of the facts

are fading into Monet feelings.

Not so crisp as they once were

Water colours don’t suit

How I see.

I feel as though I used to be different.

But things don’t happen over night, no.

The changes were fun.

People coming to my tallest tree to trade.

The people I knew getting pots and beads

from the new people, just giving over a few furs.

And they would have fun and a spirit, a new spirit,

would descend

and it was different from anything we had ever felt.

And then I suppose on thing led to another.

Houses, dams, saloons, highways,

and here I am. 

Secret Order

Jung says

There is a secret order

In all disorder

And Baby! Do I ever know

Disorder

Disorder like the jagged lines

of a plot disturbed

from the flowing peace of rising action,

an arching climax,

a calm denouement.

I know that broken ragged story.

I know disorder

like all the thoughts

of I'm not good enough I'm not strong enough I'm not

in a smear of morning sickness

hurled in a straight line across the floor.

But I start to know order

when my foot steps fall

like a heart beat

in the soles of my feet

from under me

flowing up me 

to meet another heart beat

and up to meet another one

and on up.

And things start to fall

The way my foot steps fall 

into a rhythm

the way my feet fall

on the concrete, bricks, on planks of wood

on the dry cracked tar.

Disorder smoothes itself in a caress

around me,

Chaos into a cosmos,
a shawl for the cooler breezes

that drift in this time of year.