ࡱ>  q` 0bjbjqPqP =::`pppppppqqq8rtxr20z0z"RzRzRzRzRzRz?$h(rpRzRzppRzRzүүү|pRzpRzүүүppүRz$z ܿLqn|ү02үnүpү$Rz `үRzRzRzXzRzRzRz2d6<4<pppppp MUSIC MAKERS Elderly clowns played music of brass Below the foot of the swinging cross (States of night were won and lost Realms of moons were built and passed) The starbright shrank to a neuter sphere Leaked to vacuum a sable dust Cities were clapped together by lust Then fell apart in applauding air All of the brightest celestial towns Lived not longer than all the clowns But when the eldest had blown a horn Three days had come, three nights had gone Pavel Chichikov March 25, 1994 ON THE SHORE The white curtain bulging with light Pure, brilliant, a wavefront swelling Overflowing, let us not see, the room Not a place for dread and awe Outside, from where the curtain blows The horses still snuff the grainy snow Hoofing muck and thawed broken straw And the black hills tucked up in blankets Of white spume All sleeping, dark stone will never know: Light is a wild spirit And a sea of light races Outside the kitchens of our small dwellings Our proper places Pavel Chichikov March 28, 1994 THE THIRD HOUR I heard him say it is so painful, child, Stay with me a little, speak no word The whispering went roughly from the tree The precious limbs black-bleeding and defiled Black as empty night the hillside fell A stone unlatched from stone away from heaven Free-falling earth abysmal in its mass A blacker angel gathering to hell Again I heard the whisper of his voice In feeble torment rising from the cross Stay with me, it is so painful child Alone to be in misery impaled Slow in dying, sunlight fell away, Blackness in the middle of the day Pavel Chichikov March 29, 1994 THE GARMENT A wandering preacher once was God As he was then and now in heaven He looked and was a living man His garment of one piece was woven He saw the valley of Jezreel He climbed the hills above Sharon The sea of Peter fed him fish The lake had boats he sailed upon He had a voice and hands and feet He walked and laughed a human way So when in God we see a man We see the corpus and we pray That with him we will seamless be A garment of eternity Pavel Chichikov March 29, 1994 THE GARDEN The footsteps pass awaythe tomb is sealed At once an inner darkness is revealed A famished blackness swallowing the child That Marys womb had ripened undefiled See then protector angels, cherubim And swords that dazzle light stand over him Those watchmen sent before where Eden stood To keep from dying hands eternal food Pavel Chichikov March 31, 1994 THE PROPHET In a low dark place I hear him preach A man who wears a crown of steel Forerunners voice, forerunners speech He lives in deserts of the real. You are the last, a human foam On saline oceans of the State And he before that burst the tomb Will come again re-animate. Those who listen are the last To live and see with human eyes The human age is nearly past They listen with a cold surprise To hear that servants of the end Should have deserved a royal friend Pavel Chichikov April 3, 1994 PROPHECY The rolling wave of Easter brings The wrack of future founderings So great a resurrection breaks The wall of time the present makes. That which happens later casts A wreckage on the shifting past And some who walk along the shore May find the relics cast before; The leavings of the wreck of death Lie scattered on the living breath. Pavel Chichikov April 4, 1994 VISION Spiders silk within the eye And a web discreetly shining All to catch the fleshly Birth The Passion and the Saving But every other blundering bee Mosquito, gnat and crow Will either break the fragile cords Or small between them go Rose of Sharon, Ruth of wheat David of the bee Joseph of the fragrant wood Jesus of the tree Caught within the spider net Of all that I can see Pavel Chichikov April 5, 1994 CARPENTER BEE Black-bellied bee, heavily freighted Zig-zag in flight, pollen weighted Cell in a tree, God created Small in sight, divinely sated God in a word, sent from far Cell in a woman, seabright star Straight as swords, light as prayer Knowing heaven, dying here Pavel Chichikov April 6, 1994 APRIL A wind of blood pumps up the ichor in the leaves And tulip cups of blood dilate and overflow The hyacinth and daffodil enlarge And rains transfuse a southern imago But April is the springing of the wind Anaemic wind can veer and veer again Pale spurts of rain coagulate to snow And compass rose compels the weather vane Bleed the north and let the south flow in Drain out the freezing serum of the spent Cadavers of the morgue of ice lie down And carcasses of chilling dead relent The corpses of the dying months are white Green and red the colors of delight Pavel Chichikov April 7, 1994 THE TABERNACLE Brother Christ, in your chest, Do you spend the day alone Sprinkled by the hours, blessed, Blood and body, flesh and bone? Assigned a sacramental box As if a dog were kenneled in You feed on flame and burning wax Contempt becomes primeval sin. Flattered by a vulgar horde A rabble splendid in disdain And disregarded by the bored Youre safe at least from wind and rain. Pavel Chichikov April 7, 1994 NATIVITY The shepherds field is folded up An altar cloth of rubbled mud Melchisedek defiles the cup The cow of madness chews her cud Wicks of oak compressed by fog Send up a rope of canceled murk Another birth is cataloged On human skin by Herods clerk A child delivered upside down Reclines on eucharistic straw Astrologers from Babylon, An ox and ass, lay down the law While far above the stars emboss The constellation of the cross Pavel Chichikov April 9, 1994 THE SCREEN Dont think she cannot reach you where you are. A kremlin massive as the world Weighed down the head of Our Lady of Tikhvin But when I called she pierced A hundred meters of Moscow stone With a hymn on a silver flute. Through death itself she hears your voice. Pavel Chichikov April 10, 1994 THE DESERT I saw the clotted wounds and flagrant blood And told him I was sorry for his trouble (A confidential tryst of brotherhood the two of us together in the chapel) Not half so bad as yours, I know you well, A bitter childhoods cruelty and fear A scourge of Roman whips and half of hell Attenuated in a dozen years But why not interfere since you made me I could have used your help when I was small But when I cried you werent there at all What good is dying on a bloody tree? And so we stayed discussing for a while How life on earth is impotently vile Pavel Chichikov April 11, 1994 THE GARDENER Brazen leaves defend the ground Star of Michael bless the gloom Autumn pacifists of oak Baptismal rain anoint the town Canticle of Simeon Consecration bath of John Cloud of crucifixion wait Hang in silence, failing sun I saw one live who died as wood And though I did not recognize The gardener, or even God The risen one looked through my eyes: Do not touch me till I rise Pavel Chichikov April 12, 1994 THE DOG Just as it had done before A dog came through an open door In his mouth he held a rope Doubled in a hangmans loop Beneath the gibbet was a trap A hood, the garrote and the strap The guillotine, the grill, the axe The gouging spoon, the twisting rack The funnel and the liquid lead Electric chair, electric bed The whip, the comb, the skinning tool The boot, the maiden and the stool Pincers, pliers and the fire The knout, the club, the squeezing wires The knuckle, knee and stamping boot The bullet and the order shoot Dagger, sword, the poisoned meal Knife of stone, the knife of steel All applied historically By genuine authority The rope of killing of the dog Can either hang a man or flog But Romans had a predilection For animals and crucifixion Pavel Chichikov April 13, 1994 HYMN We see him by the light But he is not the light He comes to us in darkness But he is not darkness He sees what lives and dies He is not sight He labors without force He is not weakness His will cannot be stayed He is not violence He speaks without a word He is not silence He has no form And yet he is a man He is eternal spirit But died and rose again He has all blessings and all qualities And yet there is no paradox in these As pure as love He suffered for our sins He died to life And in him life begins Pavel Chichikov April 13, 1994 WHO ARE WE? First of all a shifty ape Replete with smutty pride, hungry, sensual The rounded pupil of the animal Narrowed by a squinting calculation But self-aware, a grotesque horror of self-knowledge The pristine selfishness of nature addressed by shame Imperial, adamic, full of blame A conscious carnivore, a freak An opportunist omnivoric sneak A killer and a savage master Yet weeping with self-pity in disaster What else, why should there be In simple flesh emergent property? Some incremental spiral of the brain? Crystals build their towers, ants become a civil race Polymorphic acids float through space Unconscious termites build a mindless city But only conscious beings palp their souls in pain Or disregard self-pity and feel pity. What enigmatic quality bred true? There is not only me but also you Pavel Chichikov April 14, 1994 PRAISE God hallow silence It is not oblivion My bones like rafters creak My blood runs like rain This is death, not silence Bread of meditation Wine of peace Altar cloth of mercy Eye of blessing Homily of clouds Eucharist of colors Calyx of eternity Silence of the wordless Godf Pavel Chichikov April 15, 1994 BREATH Every day a little death A slowing of the sleeping breath And life itself inhales the sun Breathes night the days comparison And all the seasons in and out Breathe rain and snow, exhale the drought So then I would remember how If all my breaths the glass would blow Id see my living come and go With only mist on glass to show Pavel Chichikov April 15, 1994 THE PRISM Toy soldiers simulacra of a war A chestnut shell a coach of mice in reins A praying mantis rampant lion vert A dragonfly a rainbow manticore All sympathies that massively exist With mental implications of the same Make possible devisings of a game That may be played by God or atheist For every object generates a thought And thoughts themselves objectify in mass Both those I seek and those I find unsought Mark image and the substance of the glass: The resurrection plays a game of skill Where light imagines dying on a hill Pavel Chichikov April 16, 1994 THE SECRET I saw the Church a cockleshell The priesthood shrunk to half a dozen The faithful in a catacomb The civil cult a witches coven The eucharist a hidden crumb The cup of wine a thimble heaven The word of God a secret code The daily prayer in whispers hidden But privately the Creed confessed In blessing to a monstrous guest And all the calmness of despair Is cured by deep unfolded prayer A living root, an ancient need The parable a mustard seed Pavel Chichikov April 17, 1994 SURSUM CORDA In hope I lift my heavy heart In truth it is a faithless part As you know well What useless rage is evident Despite a meekness of intent I need not tell Too little joy, too much of spite More envy than naive delight In others gladness Often I have mortified My hope in you but not my pride And given in to sadness Loved ones you conferred on me I cherished too inconstantly And then betrayed Those who summoned me in grief To comfort them and give relief I long delayed Mercy taken of your love Has feeble strength to lift above This heart in joy Since I have no other power Except the love which you endower Lift this envoi Pavel Chichikov April 18, 1994 ASCENSION Arms of dogwood dancing in the wind Entranced by shifting nets of sepia shadows And celandine, that loves an early spring Drops a fragile batwing in the meadows Ancient silver days of chilling rain Grown a fibrous stem and filled with green And all the rising suns of morning come Stronger grown than mornings we have seen White heat commands the parapets of summer Looks down from where it sentries in the sky And far away the dragons of July Stretch their burning innocence and fly So now while shadows catch and hold the light Ascensions season flames it blinding bright Pavel Chichikov April 20, 1994 HEALER I have a wound that will not heal That bleeds and festers without cease I cannot see but I can feel An anguish growing toward release I have four less than you had once Yet still as mortal as the five And though my heart remains alive My sin commits my souls affront Although I suffer as you did You suffered by your own consent Both torment and abandonment While I my freedom forfeited Could I heal up my injured will I would be whole and near you still But since I cannot heal my wound You come from death and make me sound Pavel Chichikov April 21, 1994 EMMAUS Do not think he was invisible. Thirty years before his death In times infallible remoteness, A fetus in the womb of capricorn A golden bullet fastened to the solstice, He fell away from heaven to be born And traveled on his feet to find Emmaus. Those who traveled with him knew his walk, Familiar gestures, echoes of his talk It wasnt necromancy caused an error But lack of trusting faith and stone blind terror. Pavel Chichikov April 24, 1994 HE STOPS It rained forever on the earth The seasons washed the land away The continents dissolved in salt A virgin to the Lord gave birth How God divided night from day I heard an old man say Peter told the tale to Mark Apostle doubling as a clerk Of how he walked upon a lake Till panic made the surface break How Teacher set the demons fleeing And made the blind become the seeing Revived the dying and the dead And multiplied the fish and bread But one thing Peter did not see The Master killed on Calvary Mother Mary stayed and John Two other women looked upon The execution of her son But of the rest there wasnt one So only four would there remain To hear the Rabbi groan in pain And only four of them desired To comfort him till he expired No miracle dispelled the fear That kept the rest from coming near And though the Lord made time and space He wont compel the human race To wipe the blood from off his face Pavel Chichikov April 25, 1994 THE MODEL At 0300 hours, GMT The 25th of April 1994 AD Jupiter and Luna juxtaposed Luna in a golden haze exposed Jupiter a brooch above her plump left shoulder And all the trees a bodice that did mold her So beautiful a lady and so lush That even kingly planets dared not touch But all who lifted up their eyes could see A silent and majestic orrery Pavel Chichikov April 25, 1994 GIFT Seven leaves I cannot see Flourished on a holy tree The crown extended into heaven Grew and dropped the ripened seven First the chieftain Abraham Who sacrificed an angels ram Hearing God made no delay Obedient his child to slay An offspring and a progeny Was given for his constancy Moses in the bush had seen Ever burning, ever green The flaming tongue of God bespoken Burning a celestial token Smoke by day and flame by dark Laws of stone, a wooden ark There ran David, swift of foot Resplendent king, saviors root Giant killer, lions bane Befriending Saul and Jonathan Seed of Israels kingdom come Mourning over Absalom Eliyahu of Carmel Speaking doom on Jezebel That also burned the dust and stone Fired bullock flesh and bone Was fed by ravens when the law Apostatized for Asherah Isaiah too received a vision Of God and people in collision But saw the crooked road made straight The mountains leveled, love from hate A servant suffering for the rest Heart of Zion, cursed and blessed A leaf of modest Miriam The mother of the living lamb An angel came to ask her leave That she might holiness conceive Her spotless womb with light to fill And bear it of her own free will The final leaf that shaded all Wide and strong although it fell The leaf of Jesus of the cross Who took from death what Adam lost And gave us back an evergreen These seven leaves that I have seen Pavel Chichikov April 27, 1994 AS IF IN A WOMB... As if in a womb formed of winter and night Monks said the psalter in heavenly light Waiting their birth they chanted and prayed As you were born so may we be made Bowing and praying the psalm of the wind Homeless and warmless for all who have sinned December the stable without roof or floor Moonlight the angel who stands at the door Trees are the shepherds and planets the flock Born is the baby of heavenly stock No where to live but the earth and the sky Starlight his blanket, the psalms lullaby Pavel Chichikov April 29, 1994 THE WORD I cannot remember, remember, remember All prayer like a tide ebbs away Hiss of foam, hiss of foam Seastars of memory rigid, splay And then the grey sea runs home Over the channel floor, it will not stay, Nothing will remember more Formless like water, trapping every hour In sediment of happenings before The black priesthood of memorys way In a white chasuble, the reflected shore And all of it preserved in the seas white cowl The running wave is the memory The wave is what will pray Pavel Chichikov April 30, 1994 MOTHER AND CHILD Sometimes an infant sitting on a mothers lap Dandled and awakened from a summer nap Fine hair curling, wisps arching in a breeze She wipes away the drool of sleep and lets him sneeze Sometimes the infant swelling, bright and high Becomes a dark lacuna of an empty sky Far and unapproachable his precious eyes Inconsolable the wisdom of the wounded wise His mother of the virginal devoted sea Hides him from the clutching of humanity Hugs him out of reach, composed and grim Not trusting to our mercy since we slaughtered him Pavel Chichikov May 1, 1994 DREAM I wandered through the rooms upstairs Where once I was a servant and a guest But though the furnishings had been removed And rubbish everywhere lay all about (White dust and grey and crepe of dust A frost of long disuse and precious time) No new inhabitation was installed No one could live or would live there In empty rooms white sun came in To lie as dust lies on the floors and walls But then I saw, all dressed the same, Those travelers who would go home But had no way of reaching home Who desperately desired to depart But could not leave, could not be helped by anyone And though I had my way I would not start And stood there watching helplessly While dreaming broke my homeless heart My heartless dream would not let go Or take me home again Pavel Chichikov May 1, 1994 THE TRENCH I drowned to see Leviathan, that old cadaver Crocodilian, hid inside his lather A corpse, Id thought before, a mythical offense Against the law of scientific sense But all us drowned explorers see him once Sleeping in an oceanic trench Shifting through his lapidary flanks Stretching out his starry toes and shanks Gaping bludgeon jaws half-conscious in his sleep Thank goodness for the living world his bed is deep How long has he been waiting there in ooze When will he wake upand at what news? We drowned ones have no fear of himor of mistakes Yet I would not drift as close againsuppose he wakes? Even the immortal drowned and dead Paddle in a silence round his head Pavel Chichikov May 2, 1994 SACRAMENTS The bread and wine are not by magic made Nor since transformed by magic into God Nor are his blood and body now displayed By efficacious posture or by word Nor do the saying of the psalms or letters By sonic resonance or length and breadth of wave Have any force transformative on matter Nor has assent to doctrine potency to save But only by astonished grace of love By which all state of being is devised And only by the sacrament unproved That all beyond their perishing shall rise We know of him who did not come a wraith Whose potent love does not compel our faith Pavel Chichikov May 3, 1994 MURDER All killings of convenience The civil or in battle no deaths exempt from this Explicit law of earth-born souls No martial rules Or states expedience: For killing theres a debt to pay For killing theres a skull to wear around the neck A skull as heavy as the earth To drag until rebirth May take the weight away Pavel Chichikov May 4, 1994 TREE Sometimes a sun, a point of light No shape or disk, not far As if the sea Rippling in the starlight Heatless, moveless Formless, depthless Out of time Had grown a tree I cannot climb All one From root to star Pavel Chichikov May 6, 1994 THE WINDFALL A fallen nest of sticks and mud An oval couch of twigs and wood To keep a northern robin warm In slanting of a late spring storm The bird-shaped hollow of the nest With moss and fussy shoots is dressed Made tight enough for birds on eggs With feathers fluffed to fold their legs The eggs are speckled grey on blue Oval shells, none out of true And snug in nest as nut in shell The nesting robin warmly dwells Or dwelled in one I found today And so my soul may fly away And leave my body on the ground As if an empty nest were found Pavel Chichikov May 7, 1994 SOULS Unapproachable dim star above the tabernacle You bring the dead to us in dreams Those reconciled to death To see we are not reconciled Not knowing that we are signs And sacraments to them, the living penitents The candle burns above us, now behind us Whispering, but when we turn, the darkness Takes its place Those who are the living Hover and address us in the watch of candles White shadows of the lighted cross And we the dead surmise that something present But unseen Has spoken words addressed by light: You are the dead but shall be living, Watching in the night Pavel Chichikov May 7, 1994 THE CLOWN I did not look when paschal bread was broken And portioned to the thirteenth dish Or hear the two commandments spoken Or share the sacramental fish I did not raise the living dead Or sit at Cana when they wed I turned the soil and cultivated shadows Kept my cloak and did not strew the flowers Stayed clear of boats, the sudden storm Avoided crowds and all unnecessary harm Did not provoke authorities Or cure the ill and maledicted And all calamities predicted Were not for me ordained catastrophes Because I went abroad to Egypt when Vespasians legions razed Jerusalem A clown by grace may yet be saved If not maliciously depraved Unconscionable fools may never learn But even sticks do service when they burn Pavel Chichikov May 8, 1994 MIGRATION Saints of all the times and places Assembled in Alphonsus church Like doves they occupy their niches Cooing as they show their faces Or perch like eagles on their pulpits Preening angels ivory pinions Or like the Virgin and her Poppet Conveyable they sit on platforms Fixed with arrows, clutching keys They huddle griddles to their bosoms Earless listen to the chants Noseless smell the spreading incense Still, they linger to advance From chancel and along the nave To some unvisionable dance A bright migration rising in a wave Pavel Chichikov May 9, 1994 THE PLEDGE I now believe and yet do not believe See and hear my faith and yet do not Walk, run and fly though standing still Live, breathe and grow while members rot You know I love as though I broke a stone And know I pray as if a sound were prayer I live in you and willfully alone I cannot feel your presence and my fear Where have I come from that you save my life Where die that feel no faithful love of you, Between your heaven and my nothingness I loathe my falsehood yet reject the true Though pledges of your flesh my hand has broken Your word and blood I still receive as token Pavel Chichikov May 10, 1994 THE DREAM Before time you were, and after time will be Each day a wall that closes in And we remain enveloped by your wings But did I see a dream, that reach of hill That droops like flayed skin from Malaya Lubyanka Where God bleeds in sleep To an arch of pitted chrome? It was a dream in which I saw November twilight press down the great square In grey half-being And in that dream Deaths temple stood behind my shoulder. There is no precognition, but only you Who know what we have never seen. Pavel Chichikov May 11, 1994 BENEDICT I saw Benedict of the white robe In the garden birds sang clotted song Wishful birds sang melodies extemporized Barriers of roses dropped long thorns of pain Cloistered Benedict gave morsels to the rain As if the drops were creatures and would rise Who would breach that wall to bring him out No one in or outside could be living How see I flames of what has yet to be Though long ago I heard the detonation No future time exists unless imagination Has other eyes to see One or two are left, the others dead To grow again perhaps in that rose bed Pavel Chichikov May 12, 1994 MONSTER (after W.W.) There lies the city blinking at the sun A chimera of beasts just waked from rest, Its limbs stretched out toward nightfall in the west Its eyes already sparkling where dun Shadows fill the precincts of the moon The buildings show the night their milkless breasts And bait the sky with sexless barrenness; Beneath the fouled rock it sends one Solid root, metastasizing greed That spreads through every organ of the earth; Across the streams it throws a filthy seed, A fruiting body giving mushroom birth To lumps that make the ailing rivers bleed And all that mighty bulk expands its girth! Pavel Chichikov May 14, 1994 TRUCE High summer is coming The useful, languid heat Luxurious and enervating Flowers, trees Ludicrously rich in leaves Their seeds complete Be unmoved Because of reason Watch the grey clouds Cow dumb with sleep Lean their shoulders On the white horizon This heaven Of no reward Purgatory Of no blame Cuts off my head With no sword Undulant far waves Of bridled heat Come riding in Cavalry Of milk white plumes And no retreat We would be wrong To fight this war Pacifistic indolence And short memory Move little And fight no more The heat rolls in Let the cream Of memory congeal And let The whey of kindness Rise with the steam Pavel ChichikovMay 15, 1994 THE SPRING Life is a top which whipping sorrow driveth Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke Lifes a top which whipping sorrow spins A whirling gig of fondness and farewell A torque of death that winds around the stem Which life releasing runs our anguish well At close of life it wobbles and spins down And thats as much as any saint has known Except for those who once invited grace To eat and drink a fondness and farewell And stared instead to see a cherished face Unperishing, impossible to kill And thats as much as any saint has known Who reads a falling memory set down Can those denying this deny the pain And pain denying spring to life again? Pavel Chichikov May 17, 1994 THE EMPERORS CHILD Crowned griffins rampant Messengers on horseback Sound the hunting horn Gallop down the track Omnipotence is born Let him nothing lack To keep him warm Coldly in the wood Underneath a willow Bedded down in straw Baby on a pillow Herald is a crow His fanfare is a caw Announcing sorrow Wheres the sacrifice If sorrow never shows Baby in the wood Covered by the snows Angels see a face That no one knows In that dark place God send your grace Pavel Chichikov May 17, 1994 THE PULLOUT ...if any bad results follow, they will be too late to affect the election. H.R. Haldeman A ragged feast of snarling bones Scavengers lament The carcass was a country And the smell was devil sent Foraged from the abdomen A foreign insurrection Bolted expeditiously To nourish the election The closest to the fond remains Were served the biggest plate And those who fell in battle Were the diet of the state Pavel Chichikov May 18, 1994 APPARITIONS Mary fell on greyish ice Near St. Pimens church on Seleznovskaya An angel helped her, saying: There, there, go slowly dear, And led her to Tikhvinskaya And then, in summer, I saw her bowing To the Icon of Our Lady of Tikhvin Old and pale and thin Watching near the sanctuary Where Jesus lay awake And in October when I called for help While buried in Taganskaya She made an angel play the flute While she herself was changing kopeks In a subway booth Pavel Chichikov May 19, 1994 THE GREAT PRAYER White rain changes form to make blue sea And light makes fish of many changing scales Earth of iron builds a wooden tree And nitrogen turns diatoms to whales But which transforming program gives the cue That changes shrimp to whale and white to blue? Sorrow in a thrush can sing to joy And dancing in a circle rush to gladness Unitary stamping marches war And murder of a child provokes to madness But which transmuting happiness is moot That animates a sparrow and a flute? No world of things and substances whirls here It is instruction answering a prayer Pavel Chichikov May 19, 1994 ut potui, non sicut volui THE BLACK DOOR Sometimes as blue as cobalt, sometimes green as jade Scintillating diamond stabs the wavelets If only we could reach the other side The side of the sun, we should not fade Attenuating, we have not long to be alive We must achieve the other side before the sun Abandons this long, silent lake And us, who have not said our final rejection We would be deathless utterly forsaken Drifting in the sky above the flat water Dayless and nightless, without true selves Grim sky fragments, unreachable forever But who has placed this iron door above the lake From wave to sky, featureless and obdurate We cannot pass above, below or break The cold eclipse of death We must go through somehow Mother of the God of light Lead us through the black door, whose shadow grows The sun is falling now and will not wait Pavel Chichikov May 23, 1994 MOTHER With a large hand the waves push me under Nothing moves except the sea And nothing breathes but the water Inside her murmuring womb I am submissive, helpless Blue-eyed mother Rock me back and forth In the arms of heaven White birds live in the folds Of your blue robe Winds comb your wavelet crown Pavel Chichikov May 25, 1994 SELF-STEERING The helmsman beats the sea With foam and milkwhite jade And every wind of torsion Receives the helms correction No twisting or evasion Eludes the plunging track No providential sin Avoids the chasing wind Maintaining his direction The helmsman steers the ship And nothing can deflect Not force or intellect No compass does he need His rudder is the Creed Pavel Chichikov May 25, 1994 FIREBIRD A beat of wings Rock hard and thunder crashes A bird of air Springs up aloft Ungrips its talons from the earth And lightning flashes A hundred miles from wing to wing Spread your pinions black as rain And beat them, flashing, once again Pavel Chichikov May 25, 1994 DEATH AS A BROOM A picture of a landscape made of wood Carved of wood And sawed from wood So all the pieces of the wood Irregular in shape and size Are scattered on a table top. A poem is a jigsaw puzzle Made from the world Carved from the world And sawed from the world So when the poet dies All that remains is dust Beside the poem Sweep the dust away But keep the pieces joined together Pavel Chichikov May 27, 1994 JOKERS HEAVEN Train butterflies to carry weights Teach ancient trees to flounce in step Use centipedes to carry freights Eat jumping beans when overslept When all has come to pass and gone Be singular and carry on For what care you what others say All condemnation goes the way Of continents and flies of May Though even crimson hell cools down And senile octopuses drown And red gardenias rot to brown The Lord has no redundant clown He makes his angel jokers kneel On blessings of banana peel Pavel Chichikov May 27, 1994 THE HARVEST On the hillside near the granite stones Daisies, phlox and honeysuckle grow Artificial roses never sow Such sorrow for these sentimental bones Gathered in a moment in a field Faded in the sunlight of an hour Monuments of granite never yield Affinities of such eternal power Donations of the grave are such as these Seed to sun to innocent decay All dust and nothing left that once was pleased To grow and breed and blow all in a day Glean the mortal flowers for the tomb Where daisy, phlox and honeysuckle bloom Pavel Chichikov May 29, 1994 THE SOULS COMPLAINT TO THE GRAVE Pack yellow straw about the gravemound. The cold rain seeps and soils the coffin And the earth shifts with the downpour Of strong heavy rain on the winter ground. Not yet has the earth been spread As the white rain of March turns black By nightfall and the tucked grave Unfolds and slides like the shift of a cold bed, Sinks with my coffin. Darkness blends me with the frost. Who will warm this trembling soul As it lies unburied on the steep hillside; Or is it blind by death and winterlost? Then like a father gathering comes one Who finds and warms me like the risen sun Pavel Chichikov May 31, 1994 THE SURPRISE In the sunrise, inhuman song, black-winged gull and man-of-war Appear as if by sublimation from an eastern region Floating droplets on a wave of infinite submission Grace in bounded birth, annihilation Soaring, soaring, small heads swiveling Their eyes more watchful than any star can be Inhuman brains, victorious, for nothing here Can murder or be cheerless or watch for any eucharist Of what already offers up the yellow dawn The standing wave of the Real Presence. Above the deck, all balancing on moving staves of air Notes that play again, again a round of genesis They ride the organ fugue of oceans And those who watch the sky are something free Those squat and bifurcated blunt immortals Ponderous, they are a form of burdensome divinity Who watch the graceful birds above the deck Pavel Chichikov June 2, 1994 TABERNACLE Unlock the doorthat is enough Swing through space the temporal gate Remove the self that lies within Forever in the immediate, Offer love that sin rebuffed Burn incense to what has no sin Sanctify in memory Flesh and blood that took on form Pay what debtors could not pay Offering their sinful harm One who in His agony Gives up their sin on Passion day Moves aside the temporal door Of what will come and came before Pavel Chichikov June 3, 1994 FROM THE TABERNACLE One swing pulls out the temporal door Of what will come and came before A sanctum of unleavened bread Displays a timeless food instead And passions, places and events Displaced by passions immanence Stand wide about the altar table A boundless sphere, unchangeable  Dressed in robes of endless day Are courtiers of heavens play And all of mass and energy Released by sacrifice go free And all of endless time and space Ascends in fire from that place Pavel Chichikov June 3, 1994 THE MEMORY All joy and peace remembrance but of what? Between two lemon trees there is a shrine Between the stem and pistil of a flower petals of a savage rose And fingers of an amber honey clasp magnolia skin; Sunlight pours down from heavens crystal jar And like an amber fast imprisons death; Watch as if in amber death held fast While clouds of blue-winged morphos Cover cloud-winged skies; No dream that we are dreaming now All clear and wakeful peace All pleasure beyond pleasure without cease And one who is our garden and our all And whom before his shrine I do recall Pavel Chichikov June 4, 1994 THE DWELLING Where is hellhow am I here? By murder, theft or fornication, Seasoned graft and perjury Rapine, cheating, base extortion Treason, bribing, twisted sex Inconstancy, a false sworn oath Blasphemy or sacrilege Seduction, heresy or both? Inside a separate dwelling place Endless antiseptic rooms Like hospitals and mortuaries No penumbra, night or noon Each spectre has a solid clone To each a hell, and each alone Pavel Chichikov June 5, 1994 CLIMBER An iron ladder planted in the ground And angels scrambling up and down on treads Material they seem when near the earth When further up theyve stars instead of heads The ladder too is changing as it climbs A ferrous, stained construction down below But then its silver, aurum and electrum Ascending in a stratospheric glow And all at once Im climbing to the sky Laborious and clumsy, limbs asleep The earth is close and heaven is so high The angels rise in weightless bound and leap And nothing but forever will suffice Unless a cable falls from paradise Pavel Chichikov June 7, 1994 GUARDIANS What is the name of one Who walks so close beside me The wings of sunrise ochre, gold, and green Harmonics of the sun I see the form askance But when I turn to speak It moves beyond my vision Retreats when I advance Sometimes the warmth of one Who walks so close beside me The rippling of my nape Attracts my dull attention How can I ever know Eternal forms of life Transfinite modes of light Unless my spirit grows They are for those who see That loving company Without whose brilliant kind The lens of sight is blind Defend us, brilliant ones Who walk so close beside You no vision sees No vision hides Beggars of the sun Our souls concealed in you But when we turn and look The light shines through Pavel Chichikov June 8, 1994 THE SILENT ONE Who knows the cenotaph With many doors of bronze Each one cold and shining With a metallic hinge? Who knows a secret? Beyond the inner door No shining metal there A square stone floor Underneath a flag A pentecost of gold Touched by no ones death Born though never old Who sees the chamber That never was defiled? Secreted from danger Lives a silent child One who has the key Often enters there Kneeling with his ear To the silent square Pavel Chichikov June 8, 1994 SEVEN SEVEN Here, take this box old son See, Ill pull it apart for you Violet indigo green and red Yellow orange and blue Seven modules for the compass rose For the compass rose of stars Binary triplet neutron pulsar But also planets like Mars Reality comes from all directions You put it together from parts With help from the maths and sciences And a dozen or two of the arts I jammed them together roughly In a manner of speaking but then More of them seemed to be spreading about Increasing by powers of ten How many colors, how many shapes Recurrent irregular make Brains and minds and species of things The beautiful ugly and fake Primary colored spectral sevens Simple in shape in a plane Now generated a double fetch Of infinities over again Pulsing, endless the pieces came Material mental in one See, Ill put it together for you Here, take this box old son Pavel Chichikov June 9, 1994 THE WINDOW Somethings coming, he said Something I see in the yellow wall In the black eye between drifting clouds On the edge of the field At the border of the garden In the monumental buildings Outside the railroad station Inside the wheels of the train Spinning in the iris of the white spirals An interregnum of worms Young forms arise Hatch a government of white grubs These were human beings, once, he said But somethings coming Pavel Chichikov June 10, 1994 THE HUNT A she wolf running the black field Quartering ground, hunting earth A world is blind with burning labor She cannot deliver a child Death expelled from quaking womb Pinched the foul still born lava Our nemesis, infected offspring What we corrupted, caused to flow Panting she bitch sniffs the ground Flaming skin of spoiled redemption Gorged the seething afterbirth Red tongue burns in feeble starlight Her nostrils pour out fetid smoke And vomit streams from stinking jaws Pavel Chichikov June 12, 1994 MEDUSAS HEAD Medusa had a savage thatch Of writhing serpents, eyes to catch, A face that with a glance alone Could turn a living thing to stone Each eye a lost futurity Detached eventuality And every serpent in her knot Was what could be and what is not But knowing Perseus instead Refused to look, cut off her head Pavel Chichikov June 13, 1994 THE RACE I fall behind, my shadow runs And though I am too short to say The mockingbird, my double, sees it Sliding through the narrow way The mockingbird, a chimney sprite Keeps spurting out a smoke of tunes And though the sun is ageing fast The chant prolongs the afternoon A stain of berries on the ground Completes the darkness of the shade And there my shadow joins the dash Of pigment that the sun has made So too our bodies run to earth The darkness of immortal birth Pavel Chichikov June 14, 1994 MOON If above the earth a human head Shone as if a moon were hanging there A spirit drifting, raising out of lust And sea a sympathetic mimicry Then what logos moving air Would sing a psalter of creation And flood with borrowed light a sterile ocean Pulling tides of anguish from its bed The skull decapitated from its soul Has living eyes diminished to a hole And though it shines as ivory does in space It never lights the darkness of its place As though a spirit stirring in the deeps Were darker than the chaos where it sleeps Pavel Chichikov June 15, 1994 EGG A band of thunder stiffens round earths head A brand of lightning flashes in her eyes Blue irises are seas, her brows the land Her nostrils are the forests dilated She who once was peaceful spun alone Between a sulphur venus and her mars Effulgent blackness of an empty zone Had fortified the chasteness of her egg But now by force an embryo breaks through And cracks the vast integrity of shell The continents receding from a wound That constitutes eruption of a hell And all that endless magnitude of wing Unfolds and covers chaos that it brings Pavel Chichikov June 16, 1994 MOUNTAIN The sky displays a face of morbid rock Thunderclouds raise up rebellious sound Cauterizing wire is the light That splits the seething ridges from the ground Who scales those cliffs of slow-revolving rain What pitons hold the surface of the storm Inside the boiling carapace of wind Disfigured faces flesh with booming pain, Clamber, kicking, sole of foot on face Panting, rising higher in a race To reach the far divine serenity Whose overhanging innocence they see So far above, the summit of the storm, Its clean celestial peace an ivory bow And all the climbing figures from below Eternitys ascent can do no harm And yet these angels blustering with pride In turbulence assault the mountainside Pavel Chichikov June 18, 1994 SUMMER MASS For M.C. Phlox and yarrow on the road Stalks of yarrow thrust their suns Toward one great sun and nacreous Flowers ring the matin fields Morning censes, genuflects, Sings a hymnal pleasantly, Polyphonic silent wings Bees of gold if they were heavy Pray in lambs-ears and in lilies, Offerings of feverfew Rise in one tremendous show Of innocent unconscious praise, Even those who never grew Will rise beside his road always Pavel Chichikov June 19, 1994 POSTERITY Bee-creatures living in a blue steel hive Rotating sphere of hexagons in sable space Each colonist secreting waxen plugs of thought And honey of the pleasurable present Each one, no eyes are necessary, Sees through organs of electric sense And all together susurrate in mental rhythm As if translucent wings of stimulation shook In dry transparent syncopation, and the hive Contains a core in which the queen of queens lays eggs of thought Her mental body straining to produce a reason to exist Which is your descendantcan you tell one from another? No one except the queen has got a sex or brother Pavel Chichikov June 20, 1994 THE ROAD Purple clouds of larkspur in the dusk A purple ghost upstanding in the dark There a road runs by the berry bush, Lightning beetles levitate and spark A highway open only to the few Who pay the toll of visionary night, Beetles drift with tapers and the view Is indistinct except for second sight Along a road that curves behind a sun, Skirts the building of the polar star, I see a sentry standing and the far True road of pilgrims walking one by one How they go is worth a human pardon Because they get there walking through the garden Pavel Chichikov June 20, 1994 NURSES Last night the ivory petals of magnolia White shavings of a sensual full moon Convolved and fed their heavy sugared milk To nursling moths and beetle brood In sunlight now as brown and soft as leather They fold themselves like nuns inside their leaves Their contemplation of the night is over And they fold and pray their seeds Pavel Chichikov June 23, 1994 CROSSROAD A fine brown spider wandered through my papers Her supple limbs testing for a foothold And her palps thrust forward, imaging the contours Of a rugged fibrous map of ink and whiteness Where did she come from, did I bring from outside This lanky curious strangeror from another place To wrap my inner, apathetic world With unseen glory, cryptic energy and form? Visitants appear and disappear, angels, demons Apparitions, messages and signs And then with one bright wave of sunshine All disappear again, regaining shadows One night a patient cross stood upright in the hallway Stiff as any monopod or angel But this one dangles from a string, moves on As if the world is nothing but a crossroad Much better that we bless all unseen things. Openly they cross the straight road that we travel On their way from darkness to the borderland Where seldom any human dares to go Looking neither to the right or left We go on blind, nor do we see Bright figures float on spectral wings Above immense but unseen trees Pavel Chichikov June 23, 1994 THE MADMAN PRAYS I have foodI am unwell I have sleepI have no rest Thunder drawls from east to west What prayer it is I cannot tell The moons instruction rounds an O Silver words come from her mouth She strings her beads along the south But what she says I do not know Do we pray and hear those words? Do we hymn without a sound? With coronets the moon is crowned She is the queen of silent birds You who live inside my head You who live outside my heart Tell my voices to depart Sing your melody instead Lift my hands and press the palms Together as I meekly pray: Let me sleep and rest today And listen to your psalms Pavel Chichikov June 24, 1994 MYSTERY Black-bellied bees that live in senile apple trees And dauber wasps that build their nests of mud Golden scarabs bound for the Hesperides And rowing bugs, survivors of the Flood All arthropods that run on many legs Have two or three part shapes with compound eyes Termite queens that lay a billion eggs Predatory ants and dragon flies Lobsters, crabs and scorpions of the sea Springtails, mites and spiders of the land Cicada grubs that lie beneath the trees Crabs of coral reefs that live in sand Noble forms, another sort of plan And yet he put a soul in woman, man Pavel Chichikov June 25, 1994 THE FIRE There is an undertone God hears a voice But we do not Not loud enough Years blow like winds, Restless ones, waves take their print Roll on We hear wind Rushing in the dusk To the house at the end of time Who lives there? A light A window And nothing more The wind returns The fire blazes Years burn up And give their light Pavel Chichikov June 25, 1994 LOST Two small rooms, one up, one down Walls of paper, dingy, dark Outside the door I am disowned: You dont live here, get out of town. But later, coming back I see Across the rooftops, walls of gold The tenement becomes a block Magnificent and very old But whats the street, no way to find The bottom of the hill I knew Altered, strange the city is A labyrinth without a clue Golden as the risen sun Massive as another sky And like the sun unreachable The palace always seems close by Easier to find a place With residents who have no pity Than palaces with golden walls That disappear, in this strange city Pavel Chichikov June 26, 1994 SCHISM A tired tree, some branches dead Puny apples green as jade With leopard spots, like watered silk, Cream in color, neatly made Black and wizened, gnarled and stooped The dotard drops the fruit too soon As if incontinent and beggared Before the final week in June Near the trunk the clover flowers Draw the dancing of the bees As though a crowd of busy children Played beneath its senile knees Cat birds mew from scaling branches Mockingbirds play liquid flutes Deep below the growing grasses Larvae gnaw the ancient roots Flogging blizzards, shrouds of ice Desiccation of July Still the apples fall away, Leave the living tree to die Pavel Chichikov June 26, 1995 VIRGIN MOON after Robinson Jeffers But no flamboyant holocausts appear To see the race of humans off to after- Life, instead the ageing planets jaw Collapses, falls and grows another tooth Replacing stumps of splintered himalayas; Liquid eyes of oceans close and then Blink once more to see a virgin moon And mouths of canyons long since worn away Split wide open, laugh an aeon long And nothing will be here to think of us Remember us, or contemplate our cities Though some of earth delivered will be green And some relapsing soon enough be sterile That now our blemished satellite must pity Pavel Chichikov June 28, 1994 SHELTER Upsidedown it sleeps beneath the daisy Back bowbent, the smoke-grey wings are folded, Holding to the green cup of the ovary Still body striped with yellowblack How does it sleep?dreaming of the bergamot A wheel of hornshaped chambers and the nectar Sweet and viscid on its long proboscis Dipping, stretching, probing in the Wells of lavender and ivory, smelling dusky Round it goes, each anther like a tower Somnolent it smells the flower Under beams of snowy petals But does not move the sleeping wings Or twitch the claws of sable wire Pavel Chichikov June 28, 1994 STRIDER Those iron boots make frightening noises A giant comes they call July His face an angry cumulus A flash of lightning in his eye But on his way the giant goes Exposing miles of boiling back And leaves a trail of daisy heads And bergamot along his track He covers ground in giant steps From city park to garden patch And where he leaves his sodden footprints Flowers bloom and insects hatch His legs are long, he strides a mile Then out to sea to rain a while Pavel Chichikov June 29, 1994 CLIMBERS Cats along the alley walking Yellow fangs and eyes of glass Mockingbirds detect the movement Finches, starlings watch them pass Heavy bellied, striped and tabby White and black and tortoise-shelled Predators although theyre flabby And only one or two are belled Gliding through the summer sunlight Hugging shade beneath the trees Waiting for the dark of night To hunt beneath the Pleiades Then silent, climbing heavenwards Eviscerate the sleeping birds Pavel Chichikov June 29, 1994 PRAYER All messengers are angels, and the lesser ones are Thermal-riding hawks, foreboding crows and ravens Agile swifts, athletic gulls and plunging pelicans Cranes that lumber and the geese like cannon-shot From silent catapults, ducks on analeptic wings And furtive, dapple-shadowed wrens and finches But greater ones ascending from the mind Do not appear in motion but impel our motion Migrate nowhere, feed nor build a nest Nor sing to hold supremacy of trees They rise through us into our eyes And fill the world with sovereign surprise And then with light uncommon they ascend In ways no bird or human comprehends Pavel Chichikov July 1, 1994 THE GATE Who would drive the dead like swine Across the cliffs of death to drown Dying souls dissolved in flesh Rushing to be hurtled down He guides them gently through a gate On hinges fastened to the poles Of birth and deathhe will not stay Or hurry his beloved souls And there eternity is fixed And all whom he will keep exist Pavel Chichikov July 2, 1994 LIKENESS Spiteful creature cumbered with a soul Clumsy carcass buried in a hole Oculars that goggle in surprise A tongue that gossips, innovates and lies Hands that offer sacrifice or kill A mind endowed with error and free will Holes for hearing prophecy or slander The skill to be a scholar or a pander A body made of gelatin and mud A spirit in rebellion ante-Flood Immortal sick with charity and pride Who let the blood and water from Gods side And if it has no pity on his moans At least it will forbear to break his bones Pavel Chichikov July 34, 1994 ABIGAILS MIRROR A hall of mirrors, infinite regress, Each imago to all the others less Than fully living, fully fleshed And each a priest to others, each confessed All shriven in the sacrament of sight A mutual confessional of light For each compels the other to disclose What lies behind what mirror image shows Then coming round again presents a host, A eucharistic solid, not a ghost Pavel Chichikov July 4, 1994 THE PLAY A tiger has no verb to spring But grips the sambar by the throat Violets pray no quickening But genuflect within the shoot Being has no need to be It is an utterance of hymns That start with creeds of mystery And end with amens of the limbs Not fragile or commensurate With deaths gratuitous designs Being is inviolate And breathlessly it speaks its lines Pavel Chichikov July 4, 1994 ONE PART HARMONY Irate because I couldnt hear Forgetting Id cut off my ear, Angry that I couldnt see Although Id plucked my eyes from me I couldnt touch or smell a rose Because I had no hands or nose, I hobbled stiffly down the street Imprudent, Id cut off my feet But where had I obtained that knife With which I had curtailed my life? The answer wasnt there to find Stupid, Id misplaced my mind So pray to God who left us hearts To give again the missing parts Pavel Chichikov July 5, 1994 ON THE WALL Humble solar light that turns on walls One side toward the day, the other toward nightfall Chronometer projected from the sun Noiseless, speechless, comforts everyone Who watches measured hours of the light Till time has stopped its counting of the night Pavel Chichikov July 5, 1994 THE DOVE Green peppers in the summer garden swell Look but do not sound like emerald bells And butterflies, the kind called cabbage white Resemble in their color winter light Tomatoes carry parasols of shade Hide coyly from the solar serenade All similes that leave in minds a trace Like flickers of emotion on a face But whats inside the simile is hidden To farm the fertile soil of God forbidden Doves of summer gardens that I know Trees of winter gardens fixed in snow Are metaphors in pentecostal words That painters often show by painting birds Pavel Chichikov July 5, 1994 A YEAR Three sparrows on a cherry tree Weigh the springing branches down Blossoms having dropped are free Leaves begin their dying soon The clouds of April multiply And send the roots of rain below Blossoms of the cherry tree Against the season fall like snow A cloud of August cumulates And fattens with a sack of rain The cherry recapitulates Fruition of the year again But when the cherry seems to die The sparrows never wander far The complement of birds is three Underneath a winter star Pavel Chichikov July 6, 1994 THE PRESS When dark-eyed night has proofed the text of stars And turned the printed pages of the sky She presses down the covers of the west And blinks the velvet eyelid of her eye, Descends the azure staircase from the dawn The lamp of Venus held to light her way And disappears below the rim of day On pages of the night the day is drawn; But when the day has finished with his work And set the printed ocean in its bed He crumples up the colors he has made And drops them in the sunset he has spread And bears them on his shoulder to the night Who uses them to give the stars their light Pavel Chichikov July 6, 1994 DAWN Impetuous, devoted sun Who braves the void of space to know The company of spinning earth And all that living on her go How brave a lover to profess Devotion with a ray of light How faithful to remain with her Until his love returns from night Although the sun has risen once He rises to his noon again Intense, impassioned innocence The children of the sun defends And all the singing birds declare A church that rises in the air Pavel Chichikov July 8, 1994 HERMITAGE Sad ghost I saw in empty dreams confined Who wandered through the galleries of the mind Through endless rooms of sorrows unconfessed Those furnished chambers stagnant and unblessed You could not find a way to leave them by Not even through the doorway of the eye But then there came the footsteps of a guide Although unseen approaching from outside And with a breathing air the angel showed Where moving like a river blessing flowed Immense and brilliant, measureless and deep That fills the channel of unending sleep And carries off the palace of the will If pride can fall, and sorrow can be still Pavel Chichikov July 8, 1994 EYES When dusk pretends to fall for others it is dawn Beetles exit trees, bats extend and yawn Possums blink their eyes and paddle at the moon Solemn is the bear, stentorian the loon Mosquitoes hum and hunt for warm mammalian blood Turtles haunt the stream, sifting through the mud Nostrils open wide, wings of darkness spread Eyes are in the moonlight, emerald and red Pavel Chichikov July 8, 1994 SURPRISE ENDING I Impressions please? Blue ink in a glass of milky water Sapphire dome with ivory precipitate Clear lidless eye with brilliant dust in it Magnetic spectrum of the visible Withal it doesnt shield us much A gas and then, outside, the universe A naked incantation of invisible design. But really? It is a demonstration of the mind A dumb colossal show And all the objects in it clowns, The outer darkness filled with seats, An audience invisible That rustles like the northern lights. Yet, who knows what is necessary What could have been, or what is there? Bow to the corners, Bow to the eight winds Fanfare of the Pleiades Program of the seven sins Horizon in the second row Zenith on the high trapeze On with the show The oceans break and sneeze II Over and over again we are his image Mirror after mirror in regress An image dim, receding into darkness Not in form or stride resembling him But in the lavish gift of will Until with one long step we enter space Break cleanly from the image Take up our flesh and follow him Pavel Chichikov July 910, 1994 THE RIVER Halfway to the shore of sleep The barque of dreaming runs aground And there I see the star-reflected Rising of the sometime drowned Faces turned above the water Bumping gently at the shoal As if the dead had risen swarming Larval bodies of the soul Have I fetched them from a thought To see the dead with second sight Or have they risen now from sleep To breathe in me the summer night? Pavel Chichikov July 12, 1994 THE SHIELD A shadow on the ground Grows a mountain or a sea A seedling in the ground A nestling or a tree But what becomes of us When body as a shell Gives spirit its release Because it is immortal? I see the spirit stand Like vapor from the ocean Above a desert land A shadow its devotion And there forever stays To give the sunlight praise Pavel Chichikov July 13, 1994 STORM IN A CHURCH What am I doing here, in this alien place of Incrustating chapels? in the walls are dovecots And the pigeon saints are cooing, strutting Turning in their niches, bowing, praying Whereas in heaven they have room to fly Wheeling in flocks around the gold, all-seeing eye. The church is like a roof indoors it lets What cannot rain from clouds inside so wet Communions and the wafer dry of crusts Can mingle in the human mouths of priests Or dash against the window pane of hell Which is always someones inconvenient shell I have no business here, the bats of wisdom Flap around my head like vampires of the kingdom But draw no ichor, blood or salt from me I am the fruitless, bloodless tree That wicked serpents rattle with their tails When proving paradise is not a jail Aislewards shuffles priest to light the candles But nothing can illuminate these shambles Stretching darkward toward the altar wall Where everything collected from the Fall Piles up against the upright of the cross, So much accumulated from the good is lost Angels, pigeons, penitents and doves Of charity, the human congregation, move And even serpent cherubim adjourn Where flaming rubbish of unfinished business burns And all the wrong decisions leave no trace Not even ashes in that extramortal place He lights the candles and goes home again Not priest or saint or angel but a godsend Who whispers from a place above the ark But whom I cannot see because my face is dark But someone in his clarity, unholy pain, Sees me through lashings of immortal rain Pavel ChichikovJuly 14, 1994 THE VOICE You today and me tomorrow the saying ran In Kolyma, Vorkuta, Magadan, And ever since our banishment began In Eden with a woman and a man Kick him down before the swine kicks you Has always been the human moral view Except that something twists us in the head Especially when weve been amply fed That makes us stop with boot poised in the air Or brandishing a crowbar or a chair And says by way of providential warning Tomorrow youll regret it the savage morning Where does it come from, this quixotic voice To those who didnt know they had a choice? Pavel Chichikov July 16, 1994 THE SQUARE IN MOSCOW Mechanical story of a winter clock, or a whisper I saw the square of sorrows in the brazen gloom The Polish horseman riding in the afternoon In stationary madness on the pedestal of horror, From which I turned away my head to see All the homely barracks of the humble dead Where curds of soil made stiff with blood were bed Rain of black November was the cup of tea, Passing out I saw my Russian friend A shadow like a minute on a frozen clock Turn within his coffin as a key secures a lock Close the heavy door that passes to the end So I inside his memory defend the square From armies of indifferencemy eyes were there Those who witness evil or the vagrant good Should see as one who strangles on a cross of wood Pavel Chichikov July 16, 1994 HOME Stretching with a silken claw The bumblebee extends her straw, A gleaming tube of ebony Curves downward from the sucking bee, She fills her gullet with the sweet Nectar, and the slender feet Palpate the waiting flower Her eyes are goggles made to find, Not signals of the soul and mind All her memory and will Detects the orchard on the hill, The clover and golden hive That keeps the race of bees alive So are we in our final hour Pavel Chichikov July 18, 1994 CONGREGATION They are not men, thank God But stolid trees, and sod Not sin supports their roots Supplies the greening of their shoots; No mercy or compassion dies In acid contact with their lies Nor do they use abrasive law To rub their neighbors branches raw, Nor consciously obliterate The saplings of another state They know the pity of the soil That runs with sanctifying oil Of Gods anointment of the just Who pray not cruelty and lust Pavel Chichikov July 19, 1994 FLAME Handsome as roses, high as a house Knowing as Moses, meek as a mouse A spirit of wisdom coming in flames Blessing no kingdom, admitting no shame Burns without burning, lights without heat Moves without walking the length of a street Gives to the merciful sense and content All that is plentiful though it is spent In glory it falls, in glory it goes Darker than apathy, whiter than snows Deeper than oceans. thin as a sail Rarified starlight, solid and tall Calm as tomorrow, stronger than wind Drawn to the sorrow of those who have sinned Pavel Chichikov July 20, 1994 THE CAREER The young man sees himself in heaven Installed at some celestial bureau Scanning documents and passports Stamping visas, checking photos Comparing faces with the past To vet the value of the blessed Long the road that goes from death Brisk the wind along the bridge All the crippled dying trudge Face on against a gale of breath So he thinks, to have the final say, But someone else will read his dossier Pavel Chichikov July 20, 1994 LEAD YOU WHERE YOU DO NOT WANT TO GO Never abandoned and never quick He is a kind of hollow fool Upended on a splintered stick The plaything of the mindless cruel They use him as the bane of crows To scare them from the growing corn And as he gazes down the rows He wishes he was never born But still this Peter of the grave Ingenuous abandoner Retains the potency to save Through wonderful imprimatur Although his eyes are made of seed The scarecrow of the Lord can bleed Pavel Chichikov July 21, 1994 INTRUDER The rain comes on in black array All cape and cloak and stone the crows It hangs like night above the day And pelts the corn with smashing blows But all at once it glides away Like some intruder on his toes It leaves a trail of glistening clay And puddles in the garden rows Pavel Chichikov July 24, 1994 LADY How does she earn her fair complexion Yellow, white or black or rose? Above her thorns she looks perfection Takes a face from one of those; Her mind is bent toward burgeoning, Suns of April forcing May, Then she comes in flowering, Awards her pollen cheerfully; A giver of the cheek of color Shapely face and dark perfume Her crisp and handsome paramour May her bosom buzz and roam; So generous a lady she Who shows her shining face to me. Pavel Chichikov July 22, 1994 EVERYTHING WAITS Everything waits, cicadas hum The mockingbird sings: come, Lord, come Sun is rising behind the clouds Grey the morning, sky of shrouds Tree of apples, tree of pears Tree of mourning, the cross is there Early still, the light comes on The morning wakes up rows of corn Glory morning, glory day Who has brought my Lord away? Sing the flying birds and then Christ above, again, again Pavel Chichikov July 23, 1994 A PLANNED ECONOMY Spider maid of many eyes With which to see the foolish flies Many strands of spider silk With which to catch the victim-ninnies ilk For me you also lie in wait With beetle corpses as a bait But when in fact you catch my face In sticky ropes of spider lace You run away in grief and rue Because instead of me its you Thats caught in a disastrous folly In place of meat theres melancholy; Those who set a spider-trap May find a monster in their lap Pavel Chichikov July 25, 1994 COURT OF LAW Another path, another way, all innocence and jaws She climbs with lanky pediclesthe spider of the law; Superb, immense to smaller thingsrapid and assured Her glands are set with medicine, her victims are immured In cells of woven fabric whose bars come from her skin, The sunlight cannot penetrate the prison wall within; The sentence is imposed by her precisely to the letter Instinctually punctual, she liquefies their matter She drinks the potent liquor of the solitary worm So eggs around her abdomen can maturate to term; Her instinct is to death as blind as oculars can see, She demonstrates the competence of dumb complexity, And when the hatchlings liberate themselves from out of eggs They launch themselves on mother silk and stretch their lawful legs Pavel Chichikov July 25, 1994 THE GLASS The apples give up The tree is done, Like green heads Drops them one by one With a sullen thud. They roll, not far Where would they go In a square back yard? An ebb and flood Of human heads Falls from a tree, Self-limited. See forward then To a time when trees Bind with roots Many of these, And all the pins The plates of glass Lie buried deep In the tall grass. Pavel Chichikov July 26, 1994 INVASION Now in darkness flows the humid rain Sounds of thunder, hollow and far off, In corridors of cloud the pacing moon Stumbles in a passion, far from earth Trees grow hugely drooping, sag and fill And shadows of a black tremendous day Invade the homely spaces of the mind And closely comes the presence of the sky It comes and stands beneath the swelling trees And furnishes the seething in my sight, A never is but posturing might be Inhabitant of never ending night Pavel Chichikov July 27, 1994 THE ORPHANAGE A whisper far away Not rain or lightning hiss Or even sweepwind clouds Scrape and billow of the atmosphere And the sun that desiccates all things You will not find it As a calf finds a meadow of sweet grass And a bull the white horn of the cow And a suckling lamb the ewes teat All in a fine, rich meadow It resonates You will not hear it move It has no mass or poise Or drift of weight on water No ship or sacrificial man No love or recompense Or sacrifice or incense of the mind Or pendant sorrow Or black silver of harmony Or innocent estrangement He gave it when he set the garden Between the rivers And felt the pulse of living mud And shocked the stony heart and said: Go where you will, steal or stay And it rose It looked around It said but where? To the vacant gaze of the river, Do not make me free, it said, in terror Gone away, gone away Where have you gone to leave me here? Four paths and more to the white meadow And the fire seething, ashes and coals And nothing of the God that made me Pavel ChichikovJuly 30, 1994 A NARROW TRAIL A campfire of butterfly weed Burns brightly in daylight now And the sun is also a campfire, But soon the first white frost Will dampen these. Travelers Fold their packs And scattered Ashes smolder and go out. The weaver spins a web Of flour and rime With her fine legs; Her beads of glassine water Make the stars; All shimmer and break In the white morning; Duration soaks with rain And the path Through plantains drenched by dew and fire Is the journey of a morning. Pavel Chichikov August 1, 1994 THE DROWNED Was He really one of us? Cowardly, untruthful, Quick to take, not give Later to be rueful; Or are we more like Him, So knowing yet deceiving Our lonely souls within Unlistened to and grieving? He sees to Whom we pray Our Peter who is me But takes his eyes away Sinks into a sea Beneath a wave I found The grieving soul I drowned. Pavel Chichikov August 3, 1994 THE WORM Excuse me little tube of flesh You rubber vessel filled with earth, The sun that warms and gives me birth For you is desiccating death; The edges of the spade that fix The furrow of the pungent rue Unkindly sever all the slack And boneless bristling form of you; But when my final seed of breath Is buried in another hole The spade of God will cleave in two My body blind and wriggling soul; And both together join again When He shall come and kindly mend. Pavel Chichikov August 8, 1994 THE HEALING Time is a short sword, Does not cut deeply But sharp, my Lord, You painful wield it And my soul remove With one swift blow So that your mercy proves What mercy does not know. I would have never known Though filled with such A splendid grace How empty was my pain Unless with time you touched And cauterized the wounded place. Pavel Chichikov August 12, 1994 THE CELL What do I see of them? Two beads for eyes And wings like cuticles of air So beating quick and rare And legs that pick and prise The pollen from the stamen. A waist in armor Slim and strong The stomach striped with fur A dripping tongue To catch the nectar. But when inside the cell Hexagonal and truly hidden From all that I know well What secret then to me forbidden Where insects dwell? There live the workers and the queen And mysteries I have not seen. Pavel Chichikov August 12, 1994 ABSOLUTION Sweet soul that I had lost entire, Who has confessed his life confesses all, And though it burns post-mortum in desire Inflamed with love of You it wills Itself so living, death no longer kills But grows to quickened life by fire Past death I see in heaven rising, bright And calm invariable suns, Those apertures of deaths immortal fate, And there pass through the forms of holy ones Who once were burning in their bones But now inflamed with love are light You will compel away by fires pain The flesh of death so flesh can live again Pavel Chichikov August 13, 1994 JIGSAW What puzzles this? Bird in nest? Place it there Sort the rest Jumbled stars Eyes of grace, Sisters seven Roll in place, Red the robins Curving breast, White the water Crystals nest, Blue the oceans Trees are green Beaks of eagles Pick and preen, Thunder rolling Clouds descend, Who is left When puzzles end? Who is this To melt the rocks, Replace the pieces In their box? Pavel Chichikov August 14, 1994 QUICKLY NOW... Quickly now, before it goes On some unfearful trip to death The dragonfly in shining clothes Wriggles from a single sheath Then in armor, rudder out Slues and wheels among the reeds Until above the feeding trout Feeds the life on which it feeds Pavel Chichikov August 16, 1994 CHANCE It is of course a random meeting Stained-glass wings, a midnight keel Embroidered for an angels wedding Nicotianas nightingale; Sing in color, not in voices Hymn and flutter all in one Praise of Mary has its choices Morning psalter, midnight calm; All of Gods anointed lovers Crown of roses, beads of dew, Butterfly, a halo, hovers Around the head of feverfew; Church of angels, beasts and flowers Bread of nectar, wine of rain Take communion from the showers Randomly again, again Pavel Chichikov August 20, 1994 THE PRICE Then we come forward joyfully But now in pain, As then he reigns But now in dreadful agony Hangs on the tree. No way forward to him Except in sorrow, To be forsaken now Is then to somehow win Release from painful sin. In your bright grave Where once your birth Had verified our worth, Now you wait to live, By dying life to save. Once more then confirm: This offering of peace May flesh release, No pang will burn If suffering earn. Take the place Of all who grieve And painfully receive The pang whose grace Is soon to see your face. Pavel Chichikov August 22, 1994 JUMP Jump toward the nearest star How much closer are you? Live a hundred years How much forever is it? In everything Im small My length of life is smallest Greater than worlds is He And yet my God sees me Pavel Chichikov August 23, 1994 WHERE In heaven now and you do not know it? The Lord showed me His fog Damp, rich and still Glistening in the trees Their boles and branches And on the grass and ivy Do You not please The chorus of angels Which are cicadas Pavel Chichikov August 26, 1994 SWOOP Like old men monsters hung from wing to wing Their snouts with bulbous mushrooms burgeoning These chimeras of mouse and monster rest, Sleeping in the hollow of a tree. Then an evening purple sets them free To gobble flickering fauna of the sky While flights of arthropods go winging by. Nothing but an ear can follow close The echo of a swift mosquito ghost So many worlds of senses never sensed Are all the worlds from which we are dispensed, Nothing know, impeccable in flight, Of nightmare-muzzled hunting in the night. Pavel Chichikov August 26, 1994 SIGNS For W.P. As junebugs beat against the screen The worlds against my ego beat If one of them an entry gains And clatters dying at my feet It will rise up and fly again Though worlds in darkness not be seen; Though images in mirrors break The Lord of worlds will not forsake, If men be dogs, dogs are not men, And truth is not comparison. Pavel Chichikov August 27, 1994 THE PANG Astonishing, that through my pain I find You Through pain You won my grace For though You could have chosen bliss No other bliss but Yours to take my place And yet not bliss, but savage pain And that to feel so others of us gain. Where dowries of Your sacrifice are paid The cancer of the flesh or triple grief Of those Golgotha criminals betrayed A rebel god, a rebel and a thief There sit you too my Master and my slave To follow You I must betroth my grave. Then fortunate to feel what You have felt Still then my failing heart must beg Your help. Pavel Chichikov August 29, 1994 ANCIENT Dragonfly, before the coal, Abdomen a keel of fire Wings like resonating wire Falcon swift But long ago, Now through Cenozoic light I see you softly Touch the marigold You Carboniferous desire Of the infinitely old. Pavel Chichikov August 31, 1994 FAITHFUL Speckled worm that clasps our crop Of well-grown August carrot tops, Bands of green, an emerald color Egg-yolk flecks, black annulars, Tapering tail and bulbous head Moved by inching minipeds, Eating, growing toward cocoon A swallowtail by next full moon, Your brainless head has more of sense Than scientific innocence, Not once resourcefully denies Your destiny as butterfly. Pavel Chichikov September 2, 1994 JUMP Like tarnished bronze, a brazen toy Grasshopper caught, a fall alloy Of summer sun and summer leaves In breastplate armor, narrow greaves Sharp claws that prick the human skin Of palms that hold the hopper in, Leaded turrets of its eyes Without expression or surprise Calculate the jump away, Instinctively alive, not prey, Exquisite manikin, machine Of art most elegant and clean No artifice of brain made you: A cold September proves it true. Pavel Chichikov September 3, 1994 CALENDAR Helianthus in September Spindle neck and heavy head Slumps and sleeps, old pensioner, Last survivor of the bed; Birds, the juveniles of August In mufti now, not fully fledged, Gamblers handicapping autumn Bets of August laid unhedged; Balsam flowers, scarlet pokers Hide their seeds in springy traps, Clench posterity like jokers Spray it in the beetles laps; Wasps in shade-and-sunlight dapples Excavating mines in apples, Anthropoids, as we are them, All are living, all pro tem. Pavel Chichikov September 6, 1994 THE CHAPEL Little dogwood, turning scarlet Out of all the leaves are six Blushing in the death of autumn, Pallid green and scarlet mix. Only yesterday in April Ivory blossoms floated there Now the commons of September Sing the chapel of your hair. January bending double Fell in heaviness of snow, Come another April upright, Tell the little dogwood: Grow! Pavel Chichikov September 8, 1994 THE TRIAL A noon of stars would give much light But not as great a noon as one That shining, shadows overbright A midnight of a million suns; So here with self-regard impeached A human wisdom may contrive To see by sun it cannot reach And reaching death remain alive; For all who go by light of day No starlight need to see their way. Pavel Chichikov September 9, 1994 THE MAKER Specks of dust no one can sweep In jungles of the grass and tree, Chips of coal with legs that leap Beneath the clovers canopy, Yet magnified with peering glass A transformation comes to pass: Astonishing complexity Attends a perfect symmetry. And if I magnify again The chaos of the leaping throng Each in life, unlawful then, Becomes a pattern of its own Now leaping on its errands free, Dissolved in perfect mystery Of chaos, with a greater sense Determined by its innocence. And if He comes to sweep them up Then who am I to drink His cup? Pavel Chichikov September 9, 1994 MELISSA No sport there is for butterflies to kiss When spending in the hedge a loving hour, No meeting of the birds is called a tryst Except in human fanciful desire, For all is purposeful, devoid of charm Or sentimental, ministers a harm To every government of natures fire. And yet poor anthropos has less of this Unconscious beauty of the beastly bower Though all his poetry and song insist, Devolving from the symmetry of flowers, And who knows how the buzzing of the swarm Encourages melissa to conform To all her queenly instincts and desires? Pavel Chichikov September 10, 1994 AWAKE Awake, the garden yawns, grows bright Her eyes fold back the lids of night And with a languid stir at seven She stretches arms of trees to heaven The insects of the darkness hush And put away the drum and brush While birds unlimber silver cases Where voices kept in velvet places Symphonize discordant breath And all together conquer death My lady garden, gracious form, Arises as the sun grows warm She stands in brightness in her place A green astonishment of grace Pavel Chichikov September 11, 1994 FAIR WARNING A boatman rows while lying on his back His eyes in compound facets squinting At larvae of mosquitoes and the green Integuments of turtles in the cracks; Fair silver bubbles cluster at his sides Buoy up vibrissae on his oars, His abdomen of silver represents A camouflaged surrender to the skies; All he sees is gathering below: A turtle rising upward and a show Of mandibles converging undertow Everything commands the boatman: Row! Pavel Chichikov September 12, 1994 THE RING See the way the shadows run A crossword puzzle of the sun The shorter words are under trees The greater space has none of these Long periods stretch out through time Till breathless day and sunset rhyme While underneath a bush of roses Beetles learn what public prose is: Sun sing out a chant of words Until the service of the birds, Moon a darker hymn and air, A common book of silver prayer. Pavel Chichikov September 13, 1994 THE PESTLE Segmented worm, your wings transparent ice, Black abdomen and ebony device Of jointed tongue and sipping straw in flight, Pollen-yellowed, eyes a global night, Voice of iron, spiracles of brass, Durable as leather, hard as glass, Light as sunshine, forthright as the wind Hovering, alighting and again Desiring although without a heart Until repletion sweetly fills each part, Miner of the pistil, flowers friend, A bumblebeeSeptembersummers end: Frantic rushing agitates the trees But mindless, solemn, futureless the bees. Pavel Chichikov September 14, 1994 IN THE MOUNTAINS A garden stood between two rivers One flowed backward into time One flowed onward out of time But nothing in the garden moved Away from sweet divinity, Forever played in simple light Above profusions of eternity; But you remember, as I do It was a place that never slept As infants never sleep, As we the comatose who watch them Dream we are awake But underneath a ruined trouble Arch our backs until we break; No option then, we backward run To find the source and then go on. Pavel Chichikov September 15, 1994 THE MOLE Mining time with pick and shovel Crush the hours, scoop the minutes Heave them backward from the rubble Shards of diamond-pointed wreckage Shatter, glitter in the passage Clear the road to end of trouble No intention livens me So I clear away debris Minor measurement is reckoned Nothing presses, nothing beckons No way out except to be Knowing not the soul, does he Pavel Chichikov September 17, 1994 RISING Ascending from the blind fields undersea Those streamlined tesserae of brilliant light Moonsided dolphins yellow as the sun Grey, red and cobalt as the morning, true But cold, upwelling from uncolored night And heavy twilight of uncertain hue, Emerging, turn their scales to God's desire Surrender as they kindle their cold fire, Feed and then extinguish as they drift below; So we too, dull as any cold abyss Will rise to blessed fire as we rise to bliss And all we souls enflamed and fed on peace Will shine but never sink from our release So giving light as sunrise to the Shining One. Pavel Chichikov September 17, 1994 RISING (version 2) Ascending from the blind fields undersea Those streamlined tesserae of brilliant light Moon-sided dolphins yellow as the sun Grey, red and cobalt as the morning, true But cold, up welling from uncolored night Heavy twilight of uncertain hue, Emerging, turning scales to Gods desire Surrender as they kindle fire, Feed, extinguish as they drift below; So we too, dull as oceans cold abyss Will rise to fire as we rise to bliss Souls enflamed and fed on peace Will shine but never sink from our release Giving light as sunrise to the Shining One. Pavel Chichikov September 17, 1994 THE INDICTED Annoyance crouches, cuts me through, A bulb of crocus split and chewed Buried once is now on top Of late Septembers flower crop; Those businessmen the squirrels pass The test of profit in the grass Though they fornicate and climb They cannot fall, commit a crime Come to justice for transgression, No court for squirrels sits in session; We in summons called shall rise When justice holds the last assize, We the charged stand up and wait In hope He will exonerate. Pavel Chichikov September 19, 1994 NOTHING YET The white breeze of autumn, savorless and clear, moves in the garden, Impudent, the black bird struts from hedge to edge to the apple tree Nodding a hard and brilliant eye at me, but nothing sees, struts back; The crickets frontward surge and sing three silver notes Leaning toward the chilly night and the coming autumn frosts. Well knit, like a weaver comes the seasons end and all the busy shuttles Weave and die, weave and finish off a brilliant garment. And we will put it on. The black bird knows, he isnt long impressed, so to the hedge he goes, Prepares in earth a robe for another guest. My Lord and Master, help me slip it onthe sun has touched the west. Pavel Chichikov September 20, 1994 SEEDBED Moonflower, pale guest of autumn To the white and blinding moon You are the afterimage Faint, and sweetly scented And as the moths To your unfolding go So too the stars To which the darkness is an afterglow Attend the infant moon And pollinate with light The dark unliving flower Pavel Chichikov September 20, 1994 MASS Hosta, flower, host of bells Invisibly you raise unsinned A silent blood and sanctify With invocations of the wind Bell and flower, lavender Purple trumpets royal and frail, Unsounding yet embellishing The sacrificial summer grail Bees and pollen, straw of life A noise of psalters left unsaid, A virgins praise and messengers, Epiphanies to raise the dead Pavel Chichikov September 22, 1994 BIOTA Unaware yet disciplined The winds rush south, chaotic and in form Black winged and strong but tenuous Beneath the milkwhite belly of the greater storm, Embodied in its vapor, massive As a body in the sea The front lifts up its flukes and surges Southward leaving flotsam of the broken trees. Pavel Chichikov September 23, 1994 WHO COMES ABROAD? Light rising weightlessly Pearl dawn a risen red, Departed are the strung and glutinous webs. All sleep the mantids in the bitter leaves And larvae swell with cold That will as butterflies As black and yellow swans Spring dawnward in the year. Birds in bushes Tucked against the cold In beds of feathers Sleep or whisper Of the melodies complacent in the egg. White breath from all arising Animals breathes dawn in spurts Of fragrant clouds Drifts as muffled choir To the equinox. Backward paces dawn Across the world And who will come with me When morning sleeps And hears how silent are the trees? Pavel Chichikov September 24, 1994 THE LESSON Flushed from berry bushes the frightened grey toad said: Ill prove your real existence now before you strike me dead: Omnipotent and wise, my lord, you scarify the ground Flush the sluggish earthworms up, the loaded springtails down. Beetles, caterpillars, slugs and other tasty vermin, Feed and reproduce to fit the schedule you determine. I have adored you from afar although without display, And if you let me go Ill, pious, quickly hop away. All of life and death is yours, how might it not it be so? Who else would cover up myself with all-concealing snow? When we need a crawl of worms for fattening the brood You bring a blackened thunder cloud and soon we have our food. I covered up the toad again, that slimy catechumen, With piety so logical she sounded almost human. Pavel Chichikov September 26, 1994 IN REFUGE Above the storm a clear, bright light is burning And over that inhuman stars are rumbling Heavy as they turn and turn on iron spindles Not passionate, or angels in disguise But sagging places where the world is heavy Breathes, throws off its lethargy and burns, And we are this, Gods dross. Besides, in some inhuman mood He grows in humus of a sun the soul, Dross and fire grows toward Him and utters words, Grotesque, and humus falls away in speckled folds Leaving fire to rejoin another flesh. I cannot say how strange, for being strange I am another and will see the change. Pavel Chichikov September 26, 1994 HERALD Last night, and this not myth but simple truth, We stood together just above the deeply breathing garden Watching flashes bolt between the clouds In ladders, swords and nets, in revelations. And then, one flash that overfilled the sky And purged, for seconds, both of us, our humbled retinae. How small, how overwhelmed we are, and this not He Who passed above us and our apple tree But running slave who in the showing of her fire Spreads abroad her lord compassions hire. She is an omenother to come soon As sun to us the brilliance of a noon. Pavel Chichikov September 27, 1994 FOR THE DROWNED I saw a yellow barge-horse pull A string of barges, white-cloud full Fleets of sunshine heading south The gleam of winter in its mouth Tarps of azure bent around A cargo of the summer-drowned All the terns and blackwing gulls Were keeping convoy round the hulls Pavel Chichikov September 29, 1994 LAST DAY Chilled the gardens last day of September Bows and paces backward from the spring Yellow in the air are bits of pollen Rowing in the dusk with tiny wings Black and yellow caterpillars fatten Steadily in foraging on rue Swaddled in their self-imagined cotton Soon theyll sleep the coming winter through Now my ghost is wandering in sleep Along a road that glimmers in the dark It sweeps the frost and scuffles with its feet The stiffened grass thats finished with its work And there my trail is printed in the rime As loyal as death, as innocent as time Pavel Chichikov September 30, 1994 THERE A WOMAN... There a woman pierced with grief Stands beneath a slaughtered thief And if the world will not confess The mother of a mans distress And if the lancing of his side Will not a sacrament confide Though sorrowing she stands alone When Roman soldiers break his bones And no one mystifies her loss Or takes the body from the cross Acknowledges the sterile tomb As fertile as a second womb Still equal is in bitter grief The mother of a slaughtered thief Pavel Chichikov October 1, 1994 THE MASK Sad, depleted, we the ghoststhe filthy ones Our skin is moist and white as molted leather All the putrid moltings are the sons All the inner leavings are the daughters; At night I dragged behind me in a trace A pumice ball of porous stone This indifferent trophy was my face Sin and semblance of the inner bone; Rotting from place, we cannot place The weakness of the back, the blood that gleams This tottering cadaver cant be us Disintegrating faces must be dreams. Pavel Chichikov October 2, 1994 BETHLEHEM Defenseless bodies bleached by darkness, Feeble white and helpless slaves That masticate the roots of trees To feed their writhing worms in caves Their cleverness is not aware Their spittle takes the place of steel But nothing needful is disgraced And nothing has the need to feel Like these we will become a race That builds the city of the dead One tower in eternity One house of pre-digested bread Pavel Chichikov October 4, 1994 GODCHILD For A.B.H. Where she came from that I know Far beyond the winter snow Deeper than the roots of trees Higher than the Pleiades Long before the birth of stars Transcending all parameters A child whose birth is in October Flying, an immortal plover, Migrating from where I know Far beyond the winter snow Tonight beneath my sleepers cope Descending on a downward slope Ill see the valley of my birth The lights of upward-seeking earth And then to where she comes from go When upward falls another snow Pavel Chichikov October 4, 1994 GEESE Night of a tired new moon Except for the eye of the bear Battered old wing of a crow Aldeberan caught in his hair Bear with a lurch and a cough Touching the eaves of the house Dogs of the hunter aloft Silent the step of the mouse Trios of crickets and four Once there were thousands of strings Now the divisible choir Tunes in the holly and sings And all of the geese on the lake Neck to the south as they wake Pavel Chichikov October 6, 1994 NIGHT All will be well But all may not be well with us, If seeds are blanks wholl fire spring If Gods a guess Wholl forfeit everything? See how (so thin a moving veil) Our hollow ball of gas unseen Between unfeeling space and frail Compassion intervenes. Remove the hand Whose fingers are the lens Of ancient space and clutching Who will find his mirror in a face Or love an infinite indifferent grace? Pavel Chichikov October 8, 1994 THE COURT The sky was filled with lilac-grey Unearthly color sped the day And all was peace and massive splendor Sunless yet, composed and tender, Waiting, but it grew I thought Toward something that arrives unsought Not mystery so much or light: A vast indifferent plebiscite Of all that lives, of all that dies Unsouled, insensate in our eyes Its own, not ours, that holds a court To judge a long forgiven tort Forgiven once but still to blame: A silence comes and calls our name Pavel Chichikov October 9, 1994 A PLAY A sea of molten goldbright wave, A foam electrum breaking on the crests, Yellow running deeps as dense and brave As reaches of a globe of roaring wests; Oceans metallic, sprays of silver foam All flung in air, a filigree that roars And thunders shining metal home In silver droplets, liquefied and hoar; Words heavy, shifting, intricately made As if a sculptor cast the waves entire, And these to run a massive promenade Above the gold abysses of desire; All this in Cleopatra, Antony, But where had Shakespeare found this memory? Pavel Chichikov October 11, 1994 VALLEY OF THE YALAKOM Between two mountains a snowy cliff, Raven came, pin feathers stiff, The head an arrow, and a drift Of blackness followed, hushed and deaf; From left to right above the Y Where clefted rivers joined and ran A freezing channel of the sun Cast my shadow on the sky; Fortunate the morning then To see the birds infinity, Me the raven passing by, You would not see me pass again. Pavel Chichikov October 14, 1994 PRAYER OF GARDENS Chrysanthemum and dahlia the chrysalis defend Beside the root the caterpillar spins and has an end Then every form disintegrates and dies until the sun Like grace of God unperishing has touched the buried one The Resurrection comes before prefigured by the world As butterflies engorge with blood transparent wings unfurled A resonance, impermanence that echoes and transcends The chrysalis, the dahlia, chrysanthemumsamen. Pavel Chichikov October 15, 1994 ANGELS All in the light I saw a greening meadow soft and pure Beside a world degenerate, corrupted and unsure, Four ranks of trees grew crosslike toward an altar on a motte Where stood in white serenity a lamb without a blot, The breast was pierced and from the wound there leaped a crimson spring Of blood that fell unceasingly, a cord of red unfailing Below the wound a calyx stood, to catch the life of Him, Despite the running of the blood it never flowed the rim, There beside the altar knelt the angels of the wing, Displayed the torment, spike and crown, but never ceased to sing, Also at the altar knelt, ciborium in chain Two angels of the shining face, the smoke as rising rain, Each the glory of the lamb composed itself in them The raising of their voices in the choir of the hymn All glory be, all honor to our sacrificing Life, Lamb that in His passion freely offers to the knife, To Him belongs the meadow where all other lambs may graze, Hosannah in the highestsing obedience and praise. Pavel Chichikov October 17, 1994 THE FLOOD Around the shoulders of a leaper The crimson mantle of a creeper One was rising up a tree But now in Fall a flaming ruby; Setting flowers, dogwood holds Abeyance till the black unfolds And all the patient dying now Mounts up as much as will allow The future of the risen sun When up from darkness its begun; But now I hear the winter coming Thundering where frost is running High along the winter wall Of stony skies, forgotten Fall. Pavel Chichikov October 16, 1994 GOLGOTHA A cloud the color of a cat Smoke grey and yet a yellow eye Does not so much as blink, No lightning through the corpus pries No tails of wind outlash a flank Of stuttering trees But still above the calm decides, Crouching as a storm of prey, A predator that nothing hides Whose ambush is the living day, Breath from breath divides That takes His breath away How nearly done the killing is Sweat and shallow breathing show, Holding for the squalid peace of His Disgraced, abandoned letting go Those whose station is below Will take His cloak as prize I see a fitful breezlet bend The feather of a single leaf, The heavy darkness bears no wind Or stops the groaning of the thief Come die my God so we may live, So long your dying, And we have sinned. Pavel Chichikov October 19, 1994 THE LESSON Taurus burned Aldeberan Orion struck his foot aflame His Rigel set a burning pace Friction fired Charless Wain And all the stars emitted smoke The black of spaceand then they broke Like covied geese that fly to ground, Away to westward, out and down. Light comes up, who would not burn Like stars and leavesOctober learn. Pavel Chichikov October 22, 1994 CANDLES Said rising sun to dying tree: Draw up your liquor, grow with me, The hearts of leaves unfold and swell To feed on light, grow green and full. I will not grow, said tree to sun, The frost has come, I am undone, So as you rise my life must fall, And ice and snow must be my pall. Then crimson, ochre, yet some green, Ignite ascendings of my beams, And like the candles of my Lord Theyll sacrifice to light His word. Answering, but not the star, The maple rose in morning prayer, I will obey, said tree to Him, And held to light a shining limb. Pavel Chichikov October 24, 1994 MIGRATION Sideways slanting in the sun, Caught as if on edge, a world, Steel and silver spiders thread From here to heaven comes unfurled And drifts, once flashing, then unseen With spiderbrood like pith on end The floating hunters of the green. The lines from here to heaven drift With spiders of a finer silk Than could be seen except for light Illuminating spiders milk. And what may else inhabit light If light to us is dark as night? Pavel Chichikov October 25, 1994 THE GAME Four nights ago as full as brass The moon retired to the south, Now darker grow the nights as she Distends the blackness of her mouth; Shadows fill her lighted caves As floods of sunlight ebb away, All memories forget the day Submerged in black nocturnal waves; Though nothing vital can be seen, a hatch Of sightless egglings drums the shell Of celebrating seamless dark The moon swings like a spotted bell And then complacent, long she rings To baptize black and sightless things: If then I see not by Your grace What blind intention moves its place? Pavel Chichikov October 26, 1994 THE FIRST JUDGMENT A mockingbird in white-barred wings, A mouse-grey suit, black beads for eyes, Perching, puffing from the cold Cocks a smooth head and struts nearby: An invitation came today High and low to birds in trees Extended from the One who sings With mockingbirds and chickadees And you come also, seat yourself Astride the hollow of my neck, Ill take you to a sitting of The Court of Beasts to hear Him speak. Growing smaller by the flash of White-barred wings I climb astride, Snapping night-black mandibles And leaping up, it flies, I ride. Up it goes although a Mocking Bird should never fly so far, Colder, deeper grows the blue Until I see a daylight star And still we climb, the sky is black, The sun refulgent in the west, How much higher will we fly? Icy crystals ring its breast The snap of wings is sharp and thin When most of air is left behind, Mockingbirds trajectory Attains a height and then declines We slow and fall, the Earth comes up As rapidly as silver rain Comes down in summer thunderstorms Soon were flying over plains And valleys, rolling countryside, And there ahead I see a copse And all the species coming toward it, Emus, snakes and antelopes, Crowds of creatures, mooing, pawing, Crawling, buzzing, fast and slow, Buzzards hopping, lizards leaping Camels bleating as they go Monkeys swinging, running upright, Hippos trailing steaming weeds, Invertebrates and vertebrates, Tarantulas and centipedes Down the mockingbird, descending, Gliding forward toward the trees Lower makes it all the faster Whipping branches flog my knees And then at once, without a warning Pitching up and with a squawk The mockingbird presents its wings No better lands the perching hawk. A hush of adoration spread Although I could not see the whole Of this immense and spreading grove, Filled with beasts, from bird to mole. An everbrilliant presence grew, Not ominous or bleakly strong, It was as if a loving sun Had come on earth to warm this throng. Then all at once I heard a voice That seemed to grow within our souls And yet with all-consuming joy Spoke from treesleaf, crown and bole: Come forward creatures, every kind, Creeping, running, swimming, flying, All My graceful, handsome ones, Now show how beauty is undying. Up they rose, or crawled, or leapt Displaying, preening, giving call, Galloped, whinnied, caracoled, Coiled and brachiated, bawled. We saw the judgment growing bright As if each leaf compelled the sun, Uncurling in the fond delight Of shining for the Splendid One: The swift composure of the wolf The stilting of the meek gazelle The clamber of the climbing goat All pleasure Me and serve Me well Stealth of leopard, bulk of whale Who slips through seas despite her mass, Yet beautiful are ants and beetles, Mantises that haunt the grass Rotifers in drops of water Squid in oceans, quail in brakes Camels in the sands of deserts Birds that wade in brackish lakes, All come forward, how I love you, Pattern that I made before The stars quiescent, stars resplendent, Birds in eggs and birds that soar. And as they came it grew so bright Though yet as calm and cool as trust That all embellished in the brilliance Seemed as angels of the dust Though we were on earth the rivers Flowed above our bowing heads, Awe the sacrament resounded, Sky above the ocean beds But then the mockingbird grew restless, Scratched its poll and stretched its wings Darker grew the teeming forest Come, Ill show you other things. Then upward flew the mockingbird Above the branches of the trees And ever upward till the sky Was bright above its cloudy lees It soared as high as eagles do This little bird of grey and black And I as small as any finch Gripped the rounding of its back Saw the rolling of the earth And as we flew I looked around There was night from east to west There the flowing of the dawn Now I see the future come, Explained the mockingbird to me, Here I know how love is knit As there we knew it from the tree. But as we rose the sun held back The crimson line between the earth And sky remained a narrow crack, Announced the day but not its birth, O Lord, I prayed, do not delay But show us what You mean for us. I heard a breath of wind give voice: Not My intention, but your choice. So then the white-barred bird leapt higher, The light of day came with a rush Beneath us stretched a flashing sea Of blue-white comberspowerfully They fell upon a sterile shore And snapping ate and crumbled more Beyond the coastline rose a land Eroded by a sea of sand Though here and there were cities buried Domed with armor, silent, worried The air grew colder as we flew The silent domes transparent grew Inside were people, men and women Some alive and some were ridden By an elder force of passion As if an outer soul were fastened Fast to soul that lived within It fed on blank unconscious sin And rode that soul and forced its breath Though this could only give it death I knew at once the domes were tombs The living-chambers dying rooms, Then frightened, dizzy with the height I prayed to God Give back the night, I am not strong enough to see Eternal tombs of misery, Revive us with Your simple love Return us to the brilliant grove. I was again on Earth, at night, The mockingbird had taken flight. Pavel Chichikov October 30, 1994 SLEEP The earth is brown with lassitude And a rogue sleep descends in shrouds of fog The sky has come to fill the hollows And the earth holds out her arms to the white sleeves, A gown of white, diaphanous and fragile. As daylight comes she wanders, dressed, But soon prepares for dying In the white robe. Lies down And falls beneath the brazen leaves. The oaks cover her as she turns And dreams of crocus with yellow stamens. But now dark sleep, And the mirror of the sky receives her breath To show she lives. Pavel Chichikov November 1, 1994 THE TOMB Where do the toads go when the summers gone? Down among the granules of the earths brown bone Scooping with her front pads, kicking with the rear Spraying out the soil on the spoor of the deer Darkness and silence the old toads tune Sung below a whisper by the dark of the moon. Now within her chamber, wheezing in her sleep, All around the earthworms rustle as they creep Nothing in her dreaming travels very fast Winters in the future, summers in the past Buried in confinement, breathing through her skin, Nothing can find her that walks through the wind. Pavel Chichikov November 2, 1994 DOXOLOGY Not friendly twinkling stars, but fierce fires Burning through parsecs but not emptiness, His bending, twisting forces of the vacuum Betray the grip and fingers of the infinite But then His rule, a mind that has no bound, Compelling will, and love that crushes space Forms and reforms what is and what has been And what will be, all one together being charity This is the least of Gods ferocity, For dying visible: the tiger stars Are all together less than seizing grace: God beyond our eyes, strong love to see Endlessly what never ends in you and me. Pavel Chichikov November 4, 1994 THE BLACK VIRGIN The Blessed Virgin and her Child are battered Black Virgintracks of tears run down her face, Emaciated, stilled in constant sorrow Her eyes are bloodshot, clouded, not by grace; Her robe, deep blue, a perfect shabby midnight Is moonless and impervious to grief, Embroidered with a flood of golden stars White thread shows through degenerate gold leaf; But see the Child, His robe is ruddy red, And see His face, serenely unconstrained What does her Jesus see to make Him happy: More mystery than Trinities contain. Pavel Chichikov November 5, 1994 HYMN TO THE WORD The Son is the Word The Spirit the Life The Father its Reason; Hell is disorder, Heaven a hymn Earth a season; Sing all together Praise of the One Praise of the Three; That all may return, Words to their sense Fruit to the tree Pavel Chichikov November 6, 1994 DAYBREAK The calm of the morning breaks the day Like an egg of streaming shadow Last night the wind, an orphaned child Screamed and howled, wept and mourned: Come back, Daddy, come back, But sun had fallen toward Capricorn Leaving dark voids in the trees. Wind scratched and overturned the world But all he could find was a pile of leaves And the nests of birds that have flown away. I too feel calm and know That I shall see my Sun, Shadows of His name Inscribed behind the trees. Pavel Chichikov November 7, 1994 VISITOR A tame heart came to me Obediently To flutter and stretch its wings, In such a frame That every name Contained within my reckoning Could fit inside this fluttering thing And yet within my palm Declare a wordless psalm The mold of its striation As perfectly Refined as any chanted Mass, And in its wing A windowing Compact and yet a glass To let salvation pass So flying did this church Upon my finger perch Pavel Chichikov November 8, 1994 A CLOSED BOOK Ive seen the tree of heaven human beings can grow: A woman in a doorway, laughing at the snow Moscow in the darkness of a cold hard frost The chance to stamp your documents, citizen, is lost A dark door of oak is shut in his face The hardness of laughter obliterates our race, Red shoulder boards and a tunic colored grey Gives her authorityso what can he say? Your permits expired, your time has run out, Get your arse out of Moscow, heres a door in your snout And what can she say? Its the office that laughs, Closing times official, and sos our epitaph: Human race deficient, condemned by a laugh. But once I saw an icon with a Virgin dark as wood The tears on her cheeks were her Sons dried blood Her robe the faded blue of a dying afternoon Emaciated mother well-acquainted with doom Unnaturally large and dark her face Like the sun behind the cloud of a storm taking place But the face of the baby that danced on her knee Was shapely and solemnhow could it be? Peaceful and calm, the infant held a book What would you say if He let you take a look? Pavel Chichikov November 10, 1994 COMFORTER For A.B. Tarns of molten setting sun Poured from burning ducts of night Seep away, evaporate From tundras of the stratosphere (Those empty silver steppes) And leave the winter, miles above To curl and cover all beneath The stalwart darkness, freezing ponds. Goddaughters too, Remember You Who spread This coverlet Above The rocking Earth And cradle Autumn Sunlight Sets. Pavel Chichikov November 15, 1994 SMALL HYMN For A.B. Pinkscalped baby, Covered with a skin As smooth as chamois Lamb or puppy-thin, You look inside Your crescent puffy lids And pout, and close Your fist at whats within, No dream you see But something rare As common as The universal air, We might remember But have not, Debased by language And our rot, A wordless language May begin Contrition for Essential sin If all your milky Song is there Profoundly somnolent In prayer, Then cradled life That has no end Within your mothers arms Let God defend. Pavel Chichikov November 16, 1994 HE DESCENDED... So tired that he wore away his face And sorrowful so all the trees bent down Like broken backs that bear a slag of burdens He came at last to every human place: The Valley of Gehinnom and its boredom I saw him there, and though an acrid smoke Of burning rubber hid the Lion Gate He shuffled through the ashes of the dim Where even living angels suffocate And brought them up again a second time The city of the blessed is built with lime. Once again the prophets fill their lungs And while they walk they prophecy in tongues The Via Dolorosa of the dead Has walls of honey, cornices of lead Pavel Chichikov November 17, 1994 WHY DREAMS ARE BUSY For Rachel Ancient owls working nights Flying squirrels, cats and mice Voles in honey, restless bees Bats of dreams that live in trees Sniffing dogs, quick raccoons Sipping milkdust from the moon Snakes in grass that coil in layers Virtuoso cricket players Barging beetles big as birds Creeping slugs and rabbit herds Foxes, lynxes, stepping deer Silent-going pair by pair: Stop to listen to your snoring Start again their dark exploring. Pavel Chichikov November 19, 1994 IN THE FOREST Get back, get back, the forest said, And if I meddle with the dead Whats that to you? Theres nothing here That lives again that you must fear, White violets growing in the snow Dont resurrect a spring you know But flower in another season, Growing for a different reason Out of caves will come the bees Of Lazarus antipodes. Be quiet then and let me think, In timely pools she comes to drink To see reflections of a face That once disturbed she cannot trace. A gentle doe that moves alone Is all we know and all we own Be quiet then, and do not move, She steps uncertain of His love. Pavel Chichikov November 19, 1994 THE GOOSE The farm dog breaks his chain Trots off into darkness Who called him out and who Will seize him by the throat? I saw that corpus melting Slowly into earth Not as far as God But only to the spring Deep in a cloudy pond Brown as eyes Carp with brazen sides Sink in mud and sleep. All falling, all melting, Dissolving one by one All Souls unhelled. Pavel Chichikov November 20, 1994 BENEATH THE MIRROR Catching fish with lumps of bread Small children watch a shivering lake And no one sees the drifting pike Or knows the lidless gars awake, Ripples like a seamless bell Ring reflections of the sun, Above each carapace and scale Across the silent lake they run, Then catching dark and rotten limbs They slap and make the sound of fins. To ease and let the sounding dark Prepare the daylight for its work Is better than to let the daylight Solute be to those who lurk. Pavel Chichikov November 21, 1994 THE CHURCH The bell rings on, in every field Grey and brown the day is wild And winds that harvest afternoon Are threshing night from flesh to bone Slugs like spotted leopards crawl From gardens to the garden wall And every swan defends its face Beneath its wing from winters grace This church without a yard of death Exhales on high its saving breath And pentecosts have far to go When drafty rooms of winter blow A nave of diamonds rises high To cross the transept of the sky Pavel Chichikov November 22, 1994 MARY BRADLEY 17661883 An adze of headstones scrapes away at time But stone itself is blunted on that fist, Angels of the infant dead have arms But granite falls and breaks above the wrist, Sweet scripture of a century ago Made shallow by the sharp expanding snow In copper-plated limestone makes an end Of all we ever bury of a friend. Mary, in a bucket made of wood Carried cold spring water from a well, She came to Pennsylvania as a child Not dying till a hundred mountains fell, So heavy were the seasons till released: Her well-beloved son became a priest As he might pray for me were he alive So I for him above his mothers grave, As One for me may seasonably come And lift away the silence from the sum. Pavel Chichikov November 28, 1994 TO THE POETS The mouses aim is never to be heard: The cat from ambush kills the calling bird, Spiders building mazes for the flies Choose the darkest corners to surprise, All weakly things and small can flourish ever Persisting in obscurity most clever Then who would burn a candle in a basket? It is Our Lord Himself who had to ask it. Pavel Chichikov November 29, 1994 ADVENT He is nothing elsewhere Nothing born, And if I go To frontier darkness Away from the fire Will He be there? But we are here Say all the angels In crowds and masses We live in darkness, And when He comes In all the light Of trumpet stars We sing His praise Holy, holy, holy Lord All emptiness And light is Yours Pavel Chichikov December 2, 1994 THE RED SQUIRREL For Rachel Under a pine tree I woke from a nap To see a red squirrel who wore a red cap Her tail was all bushy and fiery red And so were feet and her flanks and her head She moved like the flash of a flame in the dark The only red squirrel in forest or park All other squirrels are grey as a cloud That fills up the barrels and thunders out loud But this little squirrel as red as a beet Skimpered and scampered on fast little feet. How did I find her? the others were grey Or black as the night when the moon goes away But squirrels of redness are rare as a sky With pumpkins for planets and galaxy pie. Where did you come from? I said to the squirrel But all she would do was to chitter and quarrel: None of your business, I travel alone Away to the forest, and then she was gone. Where did she go? I hadnt a clue, But she had her secrets like me and like you. Pavel Chichikov December 2, 1994 INSIDE THE WALL Do you think all rain is water And all that flows has form and breadth Or that no man was resurrected On the third day of his death? You will see a virgin horn Break the forehead of your lover You will see inside a wall A quail chick piping, run from cover. Death will make a fool of life Instruments a virgin mother, But never since was resurrected One of us for one another. Pavel Chichikov December 3, 1994 THE UNWALLED FORTRESS I saw the devil of mistrust More fiery than any lust In him all charity defiled With hope is never reconciled, Each opaque hell contains a name That burns with eversmoking flame And lightless conflagrates the lie: The garment of my enemy. Conceive then any place of light And there in place of lies my sight Where nothing stands except the blessed Translucence of a hate confessed And all the rooms of hell replaced With one transparent dwelling place A citadel without a wall A shadowless defending all. Pavel Chichikov December 4, 1994 WHAT WE MADE... From the black wool He made The night, the dark, the storm clouds Night is woven when all is light. We made the dark tones of the flute And thoughts of death. Graves are woven And all the lonely dress in blackness. Death is woven from the coarse black wool. Pavel Chichikov December 6, 1994 THE GO ROUND A running horse thats made of wood Motion of what never lives Flights of wingless, harmless geese Pull their chariots of bliss Dragons breathe a heatless fire Unicorns unvirgin seat Innocently on their saddles Innocents who swing their feet Lights and mirrors suns revolving Marches bugle, wheeze and thump Cowboys, knights and cavalieri Whip their chargers on the rump And round again on their unreal Perpetually mobile wheel Pavel Chichikov December 6, 1994 A CLEARING NORTH WIND... A clearing north wind will allow The elevation of this host The wind chimes ring Look up and praise the sacramentary of light So from the bottom of His church we can Say vigil of Aldeberan At zeniths end. Lets kneel beneath the blessing night Let every blood and body now To praise our holy burning frost And let communion taste the lips Of all the buried dead and lost. Pavel Chichikov December 7, 1994 THE DRIFTS Arthritic oaks have lost their pain Their bulging knuckles clench and rot Disheveled by November rain The leafless branches cleave the wet And blessed darkness, close the sky Uncovers nothing bright and high Leaves of darkness fall again Revealed in every step of sense Another season covers mine, Drifts of lifetimes, cold immense Novembers of eternal hours Fall in neverending showers All around see lifetimes fall Let nothing trouble or appall Pavel Chichikov December 11, 1994 MYSTERY IS BORN A quiet sea comes up to every door Stop and wait, a tideless sea has come, Approach from westward, eastward is the sun Uprising toward a temporary shore Quietly, as if a beast were lapping, Waves that lick the cold unfeeling sand Stir and wake an infant newly born Mouths a grey immensity of wind Then bells that move without a tower ring To make a proclamation of the dawn: Bow down and pray an honor to the king Of silent oceans, mystery is born. Then genuflecting suddenly with me Worship at the everlasting sea. Pavel Chichikov December 12, 1994 THE LOOK All created universes, each inside the other Walk along a thoroughfare, sister after brother Leaning forward, chins outstretched, pacing heel and toe Thoughts like pensive pendulums swinging to and fro Bobbing heads and weaving shoulders, thoughtful eyes opaque Every head contains a cosmic tantalizing snake Eden an unmeasurable place within the mind Burning with expressive fire, angels are confined Galaxies from ear to ear, nightmares of the brow Heavens in a cortical and convoluted now Hyperspatial innocence impervious to bliss Opens, effloresces in remembering a kiss Every individual a miracle to praise Universe to universe complacent in a gaze Pavel Chichikov December 14, 1994 FEATHER ROYAL Feather royal on white-barred wings The blue jay floats but never sings With sable mask and upright crest It carries ivory on its breast Light as empty songbird shells A shuttlecock though self-propelled It levitates from ground to limb And cocks an eye as sharp as wind If I saw an eagle so Astonishingly to and fro As weightless as a fist of grass But noisy as a bird of brass Id sing a hymn to Aquilae Were eagles common as the jay Pavel Chichikov December 14, 1994 THE MOVING Annunciating angels speak But only one she sees, Silence in the garden Perches in the trees Falling from infinity A messenger appears Resting in a moment Longer than a year Solemn heat and shimmering Mounting up the wall Summons the infinities To supplicate a girl Look between the shadows Mary sits and sings Now inside the shadows The moving of its wings Pavel Chichikov December 17, 1994 SCOUT A tower does not remember where the watchman stands Agree with me that nothing is remembered here But when the watchman comes at once recall How cold the sea wind and the fog of fear That drifts in as the starlight falls. He listens, not seeing far, but hearing footfalls Clawed feet scratching on the shale below And the sound comes in from seaward, taking steps As if on solid ground and smells as though White brine had covered all the waters salty lips. The watchman sees white shoulders rise from there Upward from the shivering weeds The saltwhite shape of something never dead: A sterile but voracious mouth that feeds On motionless and decomposing dread. Watchman rouse the living, bring up The living from the mortal sand Call out militias of the drowned Battalions shod in leatherfoot to stirrup How it rides, remembers how to ride the land The all-dissolving sea is coming. Pavel Chichikov December 17, 1994 CHRISTMAS PARTY For A.B. Time to be quiet now Baby at peace Warmed by the nursing The breath of the beasts Many the stars That burn overhead Light for a coverlet Manger the bed Close to His cradle Cockerels roam Splendid as kings In wattles and combs Sheepdogs the servants Donkeys the lords Oxen the choristers Lowing the words Now in the silence Modest and weak Mouse and her nestlings Rummage and squeak High in the rafters Swallows have nests Choirs of pigeons Sing Him to rest Court of the angels Heaven has choirs Never more faithful Than beasts in the byres Pavel Chichikov December 20, 1994 THE LODGER I came remembering, drew back the soil Lay down on rootlets and a bouncing coil Of castings made by many delving worms Mole mattresses compact and terra firm A coverlet of stones contained this place And held a down of soil above my face I stretched my legs and yawned beneath the trees A winter current made the bedclothes freeze A grave as cold as seven endless winters Yet soon enough the blanket warmed like embers The pillows of a sleeping maple root Propped up my neck and grew around my foot Above through loamy windows in the ground I saw December mauve and grey around Where hills breathe through the centuries of sleep While dreaming myriads of cloudy sheep As good a grave as any bed to try Is soft enough to rest in when I die And hear the larva and the beetle grub Against the living crocus rub and rub This nether place, a dormitory earth Has much to recommend if death is birth And every sleep falls short enough to pass When summer light comes raining through the glass Pavel Chichikov December 29, 1994 THE HOST The cat is intelligent when she sniffs She is a sacrament of one Her life the prayer of pouncing monks At service in the warming sun Penance never, never needed A nap becomes her antiphon Charity the hard green look That blesses what it rests upon. The cats a deacon and not a priest Confession, sorrow will not hear Precious flesh abiding now In whatever host is near. Through her, with her, in her lies The salty blood that God transforms Whatever passions in her death Christ breathes inreceives her breath. Pavel Chichikov Undated THE CHAPEL There was a chapel heaven bright Inside a whitened cell, Round windows two Revealed one new And crucifying hell Treasures and an altar stood Behind a wrinkled veil, One vigil flame Extinguished blame Though darkness was its hood A sanctuary vaulted up Containing wells of thought, Immensely deep To draw and keep The quenching of a cup Beneath, a reliquary crypt Reserved a buried sense, Inside the vault No mortal fault Effected recompense The dura mater of His brain The churches of His eyes, A toughened wall That covered all His fleshly sacrifice He built in us as we in Him No common flesh or fear, Behind the stone Of One alone No heaven came as near Pavel Chichikov December 30, 1994 BEASTS Tassel of the greening hill A poplar sapling grows Cold the northern interval Where cattle muck and low But then begins the rising up And twisting of the trails Hemlock and the alder grow In creases of the vales I saw last night above the field The spreading of the deer That pull the stitching of the night And thread the moonlight air Smooth as needles gleaming Seamless and undreaming Pavel Chichikov December 30, 1994 END YEAR No coiling blizzard fear The worm of snow not writhing Inside the streetlight near A rain is improvising, December is a wet Unfrozen silhouette Shifting is the dove The possum gleans the yards Cats in the alleys move Like sudden leopards To find the shaking mice Forsaken of the ice Not once has winter buried The crocus in the drifts The violet is unhurried In the black mists The flimsy petals draining Droplets of the raining Pavel Chichikov December 31, 1994 GALLEY SLAVES Lost is faithit is a bride divorced O herald sea We are the ancientsfuture time is lost Gods plenary Legends disrememberedThis is a sea unloved O herald sea Today is historyand then mythology Gods plenary O herald sea Nothing savedthis ending of all ends O herald sea Compose our willbut take what He amends Gods plenary Intentions failbut something comes about O herald sea Though nothing movesa wave sieves in and out Gods plenary O herald sea We have our namesin languages unsaid O herald sea Benches wornthe mountains to the bed Gods plenary Then one more pullthe ship begins to move O herald sea A forward trackbut water fills the groove Gods plenary O herald sea The ocean restsbut we go on the same O herald sea And nothing movesthe legless ones are lame Gods plenary The heat unseentheres nothing of a sun O herald sea And no one comespull down the golden One Gods plenary O herald sea We pull foreversmaller than the sea O herald sea Waves from somewhere break incessantly Gods plenary O herald sea God send Pavel Chichikov January 2, 1995 MY NAME My name is Christopher, and on my back I bore but only once what I have lacked Small child and yet a bigger one has never Weighed so mucha burden of forever My legs are long, my shoulder bones are wide But he from breast to hackle rides astride The waves come forward surging on my shins In all my strength I stride against my sins Deeper on the bed of stones I sink As yet although I thirst I may not drink Until the ford of Majesty is won And I have carried through His only Son No fasting vigil, prayer or penance I Have ever practiced, yet my Lord is dry Praise Him who died for mercy on a tree Who child and man and traveler bore me Pavel Chichikov January 3, 1995 DEVONIAN WATER Gelid windows form across the creek, All amber agate, isinglass of frost Locked within, a luminous long room But dimly moving, ferrous and antique Insatiable, the gravid holiness Of time unrationed immanently flows, But which direction, sleeping or awake? Nothing bornthis Januaryknows. Wide mouths, bronze carapaces, fins, Black bodies segmented and jaws Of coal-grey salamanders innocently sleep In tepid currents, ignorant of sins As if this giant time below a glass Were living once again behind the past And parasites of some enormous will Had made the frozen water flow uphill. Pavel Chichikov January 4, 1995 COMMUTATION Innocent as forest fires Destructive as a fire storm Charity ignites desires Ends by keeping sinners warm Corporation rats and magpies Misers of a frugal day Spend their careful hordes of lies End by giving all away Charity and death are equal Plus and minus, minus plus Ones the end of all thats evil The other is the end of us Pavel Chichikov January 5, 1995 THE WEDDING On the finger of Eve Adam spears the iron ring. One winter-blooming daphne buds But the cruel hooked rose Scourges mist with scarlet grapples. All dust Awaits the end Of our incessant brood. Without one word The mass of life bears down Gives birth to more Than metal rings Or wombs of clay. And then how beautiful These brainless living things And then how flourishing Each winter day. Pavel Chichikov January 7, 1995 GOLD, IRON, SULPHUR, LEAD Beside a wall of massive gold Which does not weather, age or yield I see a guard of iron stand Blackened sulphur screen and shield It has no eyes or any face A cylinder of lead on end Contains the turret of a mind And thinks dark charity: defend The sterile torso has no heart Or looping gut, it does not bleed Or pustulate, respire, rest, And never feels compelled to feed Disfigured angel at the wall A blackened paradise within A fortress of impenitence Metallic pride, unyielding sin Pavel Chichikov January 8, 1995 ANNUNCIATION For J. V. E. Only one story Comes down the long tube from heaven And the breast of a white bird Pure light pours in From the whiteness Outside the diamond glass of shadows The skys white sun The noon glow And the Virgin listens She hears but does not see the wings Defracted particles Of light that sing For in the being Who laughs invisibly eternal peace Bloodflesh of light Will never cease Royal cope of cherries Robe of the rivers deepest blue And a frame of wings In every hue Like passion laughing In the air of the cool grey church The fond petition That will not touch And yet will sound In the concentrated love of intercession Like resonance An angels mission Her eye of seeing No grasp retains of infinite temptation To hold the knowing Of annunciation Pavel Chichikov January 9, 1995 VIRGIL A sleeper lifts himself by pillows As runners by the bootstraps run Until beneath the sacred willow That shades his purgatorium The guide of intradreaming comes To lead him from the shadows Out through open fields of vision Virgil thrusts the sun with hands And rises with a deft precision Toward boroughs of the apple lands The homeland of all indecision Where orchards of intention stand Compression of the dream is up And he the root of other trees Like fire blazes step by step Illuminating loathsome ways For sleepers rising by degrees From rotting flesh to incorrupt If there I could by harm or grief Discover apples red by red And carry back as if a thief The living apples to my bed I would disprove the dead belief That nothing rises from the dead Pavel Chichikov January 11, 1995 IN LOVE Something in a human love is sorrowful, Pity for the passing self, compassion Or beloved memory, the never Once again of decomposing beauty Yet love of God there is somehow Without the self and pity, grieving pain Untouchable remorse or intimate default There is instead engrossed annihilation That fills all counterfeit of self with joy And nothing but the syllable of Him The cadenced infinite, the Word In lovethe word of God forever Each phoneme one beloved said and spoken And all in Him one syllable unbroken Pavel Chichikov January 11, 1995 FALSE VERDICT King Snake supple black and yellow Grid of ebony and morning Round the arm of Adams woman You coiled, a bracelet self-deforming Your beauty smooth and passionless Flexible reflected light Embraced infatuated Eva Soft and hard you fastened tight Cold of eye, expressionless Lucifer of night Fearless climber, thoughtless hunter Efficient killer of regret You in forests what you seem Invisible in silhouette Who would find malevolence Or dark insatiable intrigue The impulse of your innocence To glide and coil and feed: It was the sin of Adams mind To curse your kind Pavel Chichikov January 14, 1995 FLORIDA Shadow government of grackles Parliament of poised egrets Senates of the snake-necked swans And ministries of owlets Black-shelled turtles scrape a quorum Siphon noses ploughing mud Bluegills caucus in the shallows Veto larvae from the flood Little herons, storks, anhingas Alligators on the shoal Legislate the laws of eons Turning forests into coal Rains of years fall into pools And only men are stately fools Pavel Chichikov January 15, 1995 THE CAVE Green python rivers lazy rolling Curved enamel scaled by falling leaves And palm trees shedding frizzled coir The stream uncoils between saw tooth palmetto Bream and bluegill floating in its guts And blackshelled turtle siphoning the muck It flows not monstrously but wise Green backed, dim and yielding underneath Time unconstrained and copious with herons Cormorants and serpent eyed egrets How can it know and yet remember All the centuries it has engulfed In sliding mouths of constant flowing? The warm sun moves this ectothermic stream Which does not writhe except in faithful contours Prayerful shrugs against the nether bank It is godfearing, heavy and prudential Denning in eternity and coming out. Pavel Chichikov January 18, 1995 ESCAPE Death is something that goes in circles A worm, a snake, a poisoned bee Death returns to its derivation Death from mouth to mouth again Death the archetype of monotony I did address a grave diversion Four dead menor the four winds Or the four colors of deaths rainbow Were dumbly eulogized by me Blue and green, red and black Round they went toward the finish line Angels fanned with paper wings All were tasting deaths white jelly Insensible the swarms of words Twitch their legs like dying bees Deaths black honey my pilgrims share I went alone toward the dark trees Pavel Chichikov January 1921, 1995 THE HUMAN MIND The human mind is less acute Than larvae gnawing on a shoot No locust, chafer or mosquito Dressed in godlike indignation Blames an earthquake for creation Thereby proving innocent Insects more intelligent Than anthropoidal incognitos And Adam stupider than beetles Pavel Chichikov January 19, 1994 PUNCH AND JUDY All piety infected Black prayers of rhetoric Gangrenous the swelling Of the wounded derelict With all our eyes averted Grey skinned, a mumbling Punch Judy stays her pace His head is twisted three oclock When six is face to face And all our eyes averted Foot an oozing sacrament In the calyx of his sock Slime and blood the exudate The stamen turning black With all our eyes averted See the swollen madness As pustular as kindness Or charity infected with A rheum of common blindness And all our eyes averted The winter sun is chalk Covering his chair All of us are passing Who never stop or stare With all our eyes averted Pavel Chichikov January 23, 1995 WINTER SUN Long vibrating sun of January dawn Red still penetrated by the kneeling black Deeper than the blood of living beasts Black scarlet, dried carmine, long in wave A tidal necromancy of the soul A flood through naked coral of the trees A massive corpus lifting from the night A crimson wave ascending from the water A genuflecting ponderable sun In prayer and meditation on our nothing Your waves hematic roll, infuse the branches The batlike-bodied oak leaves hang and chitter And as the sixth and second planets shout They fall and briefly meeting gutter out With all of immortality dispersed in glare The life unseen suffusing everywhere Pavel Chichikov January 25, 1995 TRUTH CONFESSOR Truth Confessor never breaks the seal Tall priest whose face is known but never named All secrets come to him who never speaks Who yet absolves the wordless of their blame I saw the face of water kneel and flow He listened to the words erase a stone All time confesses variable sins By all the many falling into one How many sins the appetites confessed And yet with hunger swallowed up the blessing Thunderstorms anonymously blessed And apple trees were ripened with confessing Pavel Chichikov January 25, 1995 THE MOON-HORNED BEAST Quarter-moon to crown his head Star of Venus on the crown Anthropoid an almost man Grinding flesh to make his bread Feeds the yeast of many trees Fires ovens with the forests Kneading children water dough Grain of mountains is his harvest Grinning hot and round of crust Loaves of sacrifice and ashes Cooling in amorphous dust Skulls of eucharistic masses Slaying-murder is his church Common blasphemy the priest Altar of uncommon dread The table of the moon-horned beast As if a long-abandoned dog How your mercy follows me Grimacing and cowering Unrequited loyalty God the long-mistreated cur Wears the whips imprimatur Anthropoid the moon-horned guest Wears the planets on his breast Pavel Chichikov January 27, 1995 LION FIRE What do I live for? says the bird, Seeds and gravel, worms and stones, Then wherever I live and die Other birds will peck my bones What do I live for? says the snake, Mice and lizards, eggs and birds, Then however I slither home I cast my garment afterwards What do I live for? says the beast, Yellow as summer afternoons, Chase and kill the smoking meat Live forever dying soon What do I live for? says the ape, Walking upright, speaking words, Nothing but my hearts desire, And that was lost in lion fire Lion fire rounds the garden Paradise a fence with flame Cherubim defend the faith Consumed in agonies of shame Pavel Chichikov January 28, 1995 TRINITY With grace digestible as fruit To make all simpler for you He built a universe of brick One room, one sympathy, one view Outside the window kindly see One star, one world, one continent A single house of one room too Yourself return the gaze you sent And here no time is ever spent Economy of happenstance Impedes the holy poverty Before and after innocence One person in this universe Preserves a double effigy But never in this loneliness Will ever be a Trinity Pavel Chichikov January 28, 1994 THE SHRINE Ever I had died The exits closed on me On radio proclaimed As one whod never be The parks secured by dusk The birds dismantled nests Icy were the pastures Grass packed up in chests Faint the Fathers Pond The lime trees overcast Little Bronnaya Gloomy Moscow vast Birch in verdigris Clacked their bony clefts Ice the fleece of sheep A warp in winters weft Now the winter ravens Told Her of Tikhvin Friend of ours in winter Let mortals follow sin Then she rose in sweetness Gold and meadow red Ravens of the river Follow me instead Warm her yellow pathway Sweet the autumn birch Following the candle Shining in her church Silver was the framework Darkened was her face Bowing were the candles Flaming in her grace Pavel Chichikov January 30, 1994 NODAY The sun is leaving Farewell, farewell And where it is going No one can tell Dim the day Flaccid the grass Drooping the leaves In nights trespass The stars appear This afternoon Venus shines On the earth too soon Birds retire And mice with wings Twitter and flutter The crickets sing Smaller and smaller Becomes the star Where is it going? Is it going far? Smaller and smaller A shield then a spark And all the seas Clash in the dark Colder and bigger The waves rear high And then in silence Stiffen and die Oceans, mountains Come to the night Starlight starlight Starlight bright Pavel Chichikov February 1, 1995 BLINDNESS Behind the altarpiece sits God the Father All can see Him yet the crown of grace Shines with only commonplace effulgence Motes of dust obscure His shining face Lappets of the forests touch His shoulders Spume of diamonds hems a mantle sea Yet before these polychromic glories Penitents compress their miseries God the Father sends them light to pray with Solid as the mountain of His throne Dispersed between the fountain and the altar None can see the Father, but the Son Painfully descending from the cross Prays beside the sightless and the lost Pavel Chichikov February 1, 1995 ADORATION I went to see you Lord, beneath the cross Not to clack the beads or mutter words Indemnify a loss or loss avoid But there to lose the drift in gentle sleep To sleep upright and by my sleeping pray Whatever peace might keep of peace today So you behind the window of your eye Kept watching silently for silent snow Significant as psalmodies from ambos For each long wave of sleet and wind Is like the Fall unsinned, a blizzard fate By harmony contained, hexagonally made, And you from everlasting calmness came To one asleep awaking from a dream And smoothed the waving blanket of the storm The freezing wind to let the corpus warm Pavel Chichikov February 3, 1995 EYELESS NIGHT An evening rush toward dark, a milk-blue field Snow and ragged alders pollarded by wind Grave hemlocks pauperized, by frost revealed, A grey stream turning blacker in the blind Dementia of February light What standing creature moves a human bone? A pine tree moves in motioning the night Whose breathing strides my footsteps in his fright? The bellows breathing is my own Uneyed serpent runnels of the creek Smooth and probe the barrows of their beds, Alone, decapitated as they seek Their senseless, blunt triangulated heads Now in Jesus name it is the dusk Where nothing finds a motive in the snow Needing none infatuates a lust For seeing rage where malice never goes Pavel Chichikov February 4, 1995 JOSHUA This morning once I saw his burning bush Not more perhaps than just a solar flare The wild southeast of winters hush Strong and lurid in a seething prayer Majestic in its solemn sullen rage Speechless, imageless, unfair And far, adored by sycophantic clouds, An omen of a later heatless glare But still within itself unblamed and proud That said see me, as if it spoke aloud, Exhibitionistic and indifferent star So great and yet without a brain to bear An unashamed beauty or despair All-seeing us without a looking eye And truthful, though not needful of a lie, A self-sufficient comeliness of light Unconscious in its mockery-delight That when I once approached to hear it speak It burned and climbed though lacking any will In voiceless blazing symmetry stood still Till Jericho surrendered to the weak And Eliyahu mounted on the air Pavel Chichikov February 5, 1995 PHOENIX Could the world be set on fire? Only if the world were drier Flagrantly a hard small spark Precedes resumption of the dark Dry the oceans first before, Wet planets make a tinder poor Winter forests dry as thatch Supernova for a match All of earth should conflagrate What God creates He uncreates Molten minerals produce The daffodil, the oak, the spruce Permanence is consolation Still unseen I know a door (Behind the wind I am unsure Of every shape a soul may take When souls and bodies both awake) That leads to where a phoenix burns The living from the phoenix learn Then as bright as fires flesh Pass through what they have seen before Pavel Chichikov February 6, 1995 WALKING HOME Now in the sleeves of an old white coat The owl hides and clears her throat Through the milk of the afternoon She begs the night to find her soon Deep in the woods where hemlock grow Blue and bluer with drifting snow The empty sockets of the wood Grow eyes of dark incertitude The ash and maple bend and groan And wind like water roams alone The hungry ravens whet their beaks Above the path the traveler seeks The drifts are high above the knee But up the hill toward home goes he And hears the breath come from his mouth Upward, higher, home is south Pavel Chichikov February 8, 1995 THE FELLING Beyond the maple-oak tree glade I hear the knock of startling blades The white flesh of the ash tree springs And driven steel like sorrow rings Sorrows pain is evils better Sorrows torment our Creator Sorrows tree that carries one Cross of wood and then falls down Back and forth the parallax Of lunar saw and solar axe As all the men and women fall One by one so down come all Down they come, their branches break What sorrow needs our God will take Our sorrow breaks and needs the limb But no love lost that sorrows Him Pavel Chichikov February 9, 1995 JACOB Now he stops and reads his book And nothing passes but the street Frail and youngish, thin and stooped As motionless as walls and trees His work is to be mad today The office of the mute he reads But what he thinks no one can say Except to follow where he leads Up and down the sky is tall Escaping angels writhe aloft And shout like boys who climb a wall Come up with us, our sky is soft If only he could see the place From which the curb goes up like smoke Reflecting print returns his face And mirrors are an angels joke Angels in relenting light Reach out their hands to pull him in But though he feels their appetite His madness is a discipline Cramped and straitened, stunted grief Grows up a tree without a rain, Planted in the morning street He will be late for work again Pavel Chichikov February 10, 1995 PERENNIAL Suppose all life from clay to clay Is one fine cosmic winter day The kind that winter often sprouts When crocus pokes its petals out The sun-devoured dirty snow Sinks back to show the grass below All withered like a mummys head But green enough, and myriad, To grow when there is equinox And shoots of snowdrop mix with phlox; But then the February thaw Grows insolently cold and raw And slaps the flowers underground A brutal, normal turnaround; There is no other way, perhaps To see lifes bright uncommon lapse From universal desolation Than deaths declined interrogation And consciousness a nanotrend Between two nights of neverend; But if I would see more than this And hope for something more than bliss That gathers like a fattened seed And goes to ground a mortal weed I come to nothing more or less Than what my sacrifices bless The stubborn will to undelight The confiscating appetite, To live eternal in one breath That gives and loves and conquers death. Pavel Chichikov February 11, 1995 FROM THE TREE Fat crow and shiny on a ragged oak Bow and warn the frozen fields and flocks Torn as rotten sheeting is your throat And guttural the sending of your croak Pliers are your mandibles of black Buttoned are the buttons of your eyes Frostbite the plumage of your breast Your winter-shrunken stomach is a sack Lanky flap the crutches of your wings A beggar on a boulevard are you But then you commandeer a squirrel kit And pulley it aloft on spider strings Heartless and commendable the crow And those of us the same, the same we know Pavel Chichikov February 12, 1995 CORPUS If God gives, I will assume a name Floating in a sea, my mothers womb If God gives, crawl up and sigh Slime of heavens heart If God gives If God gives Light my eyes will see, all shadows wings And birds of sight disclose my heavens light Descend like spirits, flaming summer bright And all One fall A coming From forever To my height Sublime my heart If God gives With all His voices Risen to One tomb He sings If God gives If God gives Pavel Chichikov February 13, 1995 WARBLER A pile of smoky feathers and a head Are all thats left of what has overwintered Not even blood or bone deposited Inseminates the frost a thaw has splintered A feral cat, a possum or a rat Has carrioned or killed the grams of meat That exercised, with black and yellow cap, A song machine arrested by the sleet The eye that snapped with black is numbly white The insect-pecking mandibles unpinned And plumage that companionated flight Achieves a black annulment from the wind Now be deathly innocent of grief Decay the splendid beauty and its thief Pavel Chichikov February 15, 1995 WINTERS GLASS Winters glass, transparent frost A lens of night by day is lost And rivers flowing brown opaque Are carried off by duck and drake Silent paddles are their oars As breast to breast they pass the shores They disappear behind a bend The current finds the futures end And there a self I do not own Is carried swiftly to its home All silence is identity The future, past and now are three Divisions of a single law A soul subliming in a thaw And nothing consequently lost Except the shining of the frost Pavel Chichikov February 17, 1995 BASILICA The first sleep is over, and in the dark The next sleep begins, and he awakes Beneath the dome of memory, pantocrator The cherubim and angels of an open door Look beneath from curving space and time And see the past and future meet as rain, The black floor gives nothing to reflect The circumstantial shuffling of the intellect Walls lean interpenetrating left and right But never meet in curving through the arch of sight The altar is an exponential apogee An apse behind receding to eternity And he awakes from recollecting night Where living darkness vested in the sacristy Pavel Chichikov February 19, 1995 SNOWMAN Heavenly invention of the melting snow At first the one we built was Adams positive Round head, white heart and frozen through and through A blood of crystal, moody, hypersensitive If covered by the clouds the sun withdrew He braced himself and postured in the wind And when the February thaw broke through He negatively sagged and melting, sinned Even God-expelled our Adam-Eve Though weeping did not melt away like snow But nothing thats sublimed can be retrieved Evaporating lives the ones we know Our vapor thats solidified a season Can laugh and speak and exercise its reason Pavel Chichikov February 19, 1995 GROUP HOME The swart cough of a sintered lung Expels the mucus from his breath The one whom we shat forth as dung Consumes a purging cigarette, Even blizzards suck him forth To occupy a darklings porch, Smokes he night, the night smokes him A faceless coprolitic torch, Mad and meagre, singed and signed Not one surprise he ever knows, His indigent dependency Is only burned but never grows, And we who keep him pass as grace That never pentecosts his face Pavel Chichikov February 21, 1995 THE EXECUTION Endless afternoons in place A wedge of hours limes my glass Summer welds the shadows mass Against the pavements carapace Heat and vodka flick the bait And words like piscine flickering Uprise and show the scaly trait Of gossiping and snickering Drink the drunken afternoon Imbibe as if the summer flowed The sun a punctured ur-balloon Is soon to crumple and unload Those faces flushed with summer blood Remembered now as sensitive Departed or corrupted wood My brain their representative As dreams we thought ourselves alive We embryo realities Our life too plausible to thrive The death of sainted sanities How real were they, are they, those men And women of the summer heat They lived or might be living then If ageing memorys complete The summer shoots and will shoot yet To pay a violated debt Oblivion that will not rest The sun a bullet in the chest Who will forgive? no grace Absolves a mimicry of dying words Before and now and after this We execute more thieves than gods Pavel Chichikov February 22, 1995 HOW DEATH APPEARED An arm recurved and made an arm The first event would be a brave self-harm Before there was a sympathetic brain An Abel self-created by a Cain The block reached forth and carved a reaching self Its arm extended from the conscious mass A cube of solid unforgiving stone It was itself creator of itself alone Then to show it was the self-elect It separated self from self with neck Curls of granite flew away like blood And that is how the stone self-understood The head emerged by carving self creation Gouging eyes to see its own dimensions Weeping found itself afraid of night For comforting the stone created light After light it stabbed and pulled a mouth Nostrils dug for breathing in its worth In to live and out to speak, it said I am myself the everliving bread A torso with immense self-giving pain Was murdered out of granite by this Cain Then by referent self-making art It made and set to pumping from its heart It wasnt life but self-regarding clone That carved itself unmoving from a stone But then it caused its walking to begin By splitting leg from leg and sin from sin A moving stone would never come to live Unless it learned the lesson to forgive Though head and body, heart and moving leg It was a granite self-despising egg It turned in six directions never seeing Another carved comparison of being, So pitying the Father on His throne Returned the self-created to the stone Pavel ChichikovFebruary 24, 1995 GOBLIN Under winter-blackened leaves A pedestal of dirty snow Elf-altar, wind-carved table Dwarf that will not melt or grow A stub of manna, weird taboo Preserved, a capuchin of dirt, Snowfleshed manikin that grew Squatly with a maple shirt And also in the breast of us A goblin of resistant cold Is buried under rotting leaves Prolonged but never old Pavel Chichikov February 25, 1995 THE SHALLOWS In the face of water as it flows The shoulder it bears to the shore The gloss of the feathers of ducks The shade of green leaves sliding In the mass of clouds The heavy lean of winds The gospel comes, good news That all is ending well That never ends again The shallows of His eyes All the living seek Who nestle in the reeds Pavel Chichikov February 25, 1995 FIRST FLOWERS Celandine and bitterwort, Speedwell, veronica Shrug and pull their boggy socks Just above the equinox Flowerets the size of eyes Squinting in a moles surmise Februarys flock unsealed Scattered in a soggy field First to flower and to grow Patches like unmelted snow True as ikons Early yellow Underneath, a buried fellow Beak and body gnawed upon Februarys tomb is ice Buried like a bird is Christ Pavel Chichikov February 26, 1995 THE INSURRECTION Barely kindled is the meagre sun When all at once the battle is begun A pair of silent ordinary crows Is having at a hawk above the meadows Freely in the prairie of the air The intersecting parabolic pair Slide in almost frictionless attack Against the raptors talons and its back Glancing at the delta of its rudder They cause the prince to jink and then to flutter While commoners of crows within the trees Are set to common cawing as they please They chatter in their sub-Edenic talk About the sinless hunting of the hawk Pavel Chichikov February 26, 1995 GREY FLOCKS The sky says nothing southern and the bent Laryngeal cherry speaks no words Commons of the subsoil is our Lent Eyelids of magnolia buds are blind For eyes themselves are shuttered by their rind Tongues of dogwood smother on the curds Of undigested holly from the birds And March of paralytics makes a month As water rain dilutes a rain of turds The penitential winter has not sent (Though February kneels on mucky knees) A green replacement for the chickadees Those flying balls of sooty excrement This cemetery season shovels Spring A corpse digs up itself, uncoffining Pavel Chichikov March 1, 1995 THE ROOM When Lord-God opened Adams head (Our primal father was in bed) He saw what no one lives to tell Abyssal truth, a somber well, Foreverin a cranial cup From which by grace He drew it up A foaming drink of solute time A mix of mercy, chaos, rhyme And then He held the blackened brew In starbright fingers running through A fall of everliquid night The tendrils of immortal sight And this we drink whenever sleep Rips off the cover of the deep But such as we, in footings slip Take only onea mortal sip Though even that upon the tongue Makes vision drunk, senescence young, And so I saw beyond a room Through window glass nocturnal gloom And there a wolf beside a pool A world wolf waiting, hierodule Of something old, unsatisfied That never lives but never dies And we within though dream-enclosed Are still expectant, real, exposed Pavel Chichikov March 2, 1995 OMNIPOTENS AETERNE DEUS The throne of judgment is a room He can as spirit fit Himself within Intimate, we two alone, discuss What particle of good, what of sin, Face to face, a face I can endure Disposes to confession and to cure I am the woven thread, He is loom Omnipotens aeterne Deus Basilicas of space His chapels range along the nave Hazelnut dimensions cover us He in mercy frank disposed to save, A friend He gazes in my fearful eyes Nothing I have done He will despise A face I can endure, this loving face Omnipotens aeterne Deus Every word I warm with love For words of His illuminate like suns Do not be frightened of His gentle syllabus No hypocritic judge He is like earthly ones Though Lord of finite minds He is the loving face and vision of the blind Sees within, before, and from above Omnipotens aeterne Deus Though great, as small as I He is my equal in humility Equal more to every trust For He returns eternity to lending thieves Gives His love, all-creating God Even them who scourged Him with a rod If they be gentle now as was the lamb Omnipotens aeterne Deus Pavel Chichikov March 3, 1995 FORTY DAYS Was it the desert, the Arava, The devil led our Jesus through The desert of the earth, the red, The ochre and the distant blue? How terrifying day and night One blind of midnight, one of noon, The tent of sunrise blown away The tent of Davids sterile crown Our desert of the endless test Has no escarpment, bedouin, The empty and unlimited Ends nowhere or Jerusalem Pavel Chichikov March 5, 1995 SAVERS From the parapet of peace Jerusalem the uterine The sacred amniopolis I threw myself to space And he who caught me by the foot A saver of the seraphim Then dangled me as once did John A fish to show a fisherman And said: I will in future time And many times catch up this fool For though its Lord was tempted once It will be tempted as a rule. The angel sadly set me down, A bawling urinating clown, That first one of the miracles. Pavel Chichikov March 6, 1995 ONE BABEL Late winter rain becomes a sea The sea a mountain-gulping snake And if the world were small as me I might an eyelid-refuge take To build a cabin in a pore And use a lash to semaphore The sea would rise about the nose And cast its breakers on the bridge Disturb my browhung safe repose A physiognomic sacrilege And there in Babel Id complain Against this disrespectful rain Still the drowning sea would rise A seacave make of both the ears Flood the skull with cold surprise A roaring foaming aquasphere So then amongst the sodden hair Id find the refuge of despair But even worlds are smaller than (Compared to everlasting God) A living woman or a man, Sheltered as the peas in pods They grow in safety on a vine Between the rain and harvest time Pavel Chichikov March 8, 1995 THE VISITOR The wind goes ambling on the earth And nudges down his blackthorn cane Light goes lightning down the side From cloud to earth and back again The wind goes on from place to place The clouds like puppies in a trace He stumbles on a wooden church While rambling south from nervous seas He rattles windows, shakes the pews And notices by slow degrees His Lord and Master in a hutch Whom none may see but all may touch Why have they put you, Jesus, Lord, Inside a house so small and low Come sit upon me, Master dear And travel with me while I blow From Cancer south to Capricorn To sound the equinoctial horn The Lord says nothing in reply But listens while the fibers snap, The wind sits down in empty pews And sunlight swivels in his lap Until its time to blow again The vigil ended with his Friend Pavel Chichikov March 9, 1995 THE WEB In cords of humid silver Arachnids bind and purl Tense and pale as platinum Mesh adheres to worlds Tangled on our buildings Windows shut and sealed Wrapping in its glisten All the sun reveals Masks opaque and trembling Forests held in shrouds Tents of smothered flowers Stationary clouds Webs of sterile sacking Shrouds of binding lies Spinnerets forever Secreting from our eyes Pavel Chichikov March 13, 1995 DYING BIRD The dying bird spreads out its wings Sphinx of death in life give answer Breast to earth no salvo sings What commonplace do you encounter? How much my rigid pity stings As if the poison pinned my soul To see a pretty thing despair Instead of melting into air I will like you display in death The reach and poise of feathered wings For since all birds and men lift breath Their flying speaks and speaking sings And both beloved of the One Exalt the rising of His Son Pavel Chichikov March 14, 1995 THE LAND OF UNLIKENESS The land of unlikeness where Nazareth sees Disciples sleeping under the trees Oil of His blood drips from His heart And prayer from His praying without any art: Let me not go where comfort is blind Under the olives no comfort to find Only the meaningless shadow and moon That I must disperse in beginning at noon Body and blood is oblivions bread Torn and devoured as soon as Im dead, Pressed in the pressing, oil running out Darkens the ground like a shadow of doubt And all that I know has come to this few Who leave me forsaken and sleep in the dew. Pavel Chichikov March 17, 1995 EMPTY TOWN The little grey dog runs down the street Lost and alone its Lord to seek Frantic eyes and swollen tongue Heaving chest and pumping lung Tracking through the compass rose Away from what the mongrel knows Following scents and signs of meat A bloody bone, a bitchs heat Now its dusk, dark to come It cant remember where its from Gutters dry and alleys dead Empty, empty mongrels head Only the thoughts of Kingdom come Go back again where they came from Pray that mongrel may be found That runs alone through Empty Town Pavel Chichikov March 19, 1995 BUSINESS The son of Man is taken Not for bread and salt Silver bread is broken For which the Man is bought Snatchers in the shadows Steal the Child of life Soother of the sorrows Butchered with a knife Chief of all the robbers Gibbets improvises, Perjury and slander Summon the assizes Commoners and paupers Gamble at the cross Merchants and marauders Sell Him at a loss Watchers and betrayers Denounce their only hope Torturers and slayers Strangle on their rope Selling as they borrow They notarize the debt He the Son of sorrows Paying for it yet Pavel Chichikov March 19, 1995 SANCTUARY Ghost of remorse, and ghost again Dissipates in the summer sun Waterfalls around the rocks Fall and fall like ticking clocks The clouds rise up to block the view Of Edens old and Edens new Walls of cloud with deeps and furrows Catacombs and goblin burrows Come along to see the cave Of sanctuary Jesus made And there beside the climbing flame Silence, peace and mercy seem As if a wall of cloud below Receded infinitely now Pavel Chichikov March 22, 1995 THE RUBRIC Magnolia holds its chalice blooms aloft The outer petals purple, cool and soft, A wine of anthers tightly sacrificed Is drunk within from linings of the white, Kneel and sip the congregating bees That toward the first of April drink these trees And mockingbirds puffed out, with seedling eyes, Begin their nesting, sing and sermonize, Thrushes pull their sacramental worms From pyxes of the earth, the garden berms And starlings on the pavement of the grass Are bowing their responses to the Mass, Sacristans unfolding in the trees Prepare the summer vestments of the breeze Pavel Chichikov March 22, 1995 SAY I Weve always known God, you see But we dont want to talk about him Or look at him He follows us around with pleading eyes Or sometimes hovers overhead, in the shape of a bird Watching the fallow heat of a midsummer field In the legs of a large green grasshopper With a striped belly He jumps at our feet And buries himself in the tangled stalks of hay He peers within as the oblong of moonlight windows And pastes the floor with shapeless light Hes there but never there And always I see him: A dart stuck in the sky Or a quivering bowstring, invisible Where I am to be when he comes? Just wait, he says Just wait For Ill be there when you need me And when you need me, Ill be there, And I reply: As much as I know, I know, Say I Pavel Chichikov March 23, 1995 CANTICLE Mother of mercy to you we cry Banished from Eden your children die Mourning and weeping our tears are rain That falls from clouds engorged with pain But now this morning the alders down Burns the wax of the rising sun And buds like tapers burst aflame Held to a light we cannot name Exiled here we may not sing A canticle opposed to spring Or see your Son with eyes grown blind Or come to heavens gate refined We mixtures of a joyful mud Rejoice to see the alders bud Pavel Chichikov March 24, 1995 THE MEADOW Coreopsis and cinquefoil Around the spring of April coil Inseparable from the rise Of lights ecliptic through the skies Fields of thirsty springing green Blades and lobes and spades are seen Nesting circlets holding crowns Of yellow heads above the ground Images of light below They vibrate when the breezes blow And jangle silently like bells Without their clappers or their knells Trajectories from long ago Cast the seeds to where they grow: A Plantsman of the virgin prime Thumbing Earth, a seed in time Fertilized the soil of space With some of time and some of grace Pavel Chichikov March 24, 1995 CREATION The wind a random signal? Nicodemus, wait, you will hear The voice of the wind draw near Elijahs wind, soft, calm and thin Chanting hymns of cherubim Turning round their shining wheels All the words the winds allele White noise the Lords call. Down by the river the waters dark Flows from the waters running work Spreads in the shriveled reeds and spills Flowing among the April hills A form like water, thin and black And there the fertile night comes back Pavel Chichikov March 25, 1995 O MY RIVER Do I end said the river, running, do I? Showing its shining teeth to the sky Over the edge of a granite shoal Wavelets of ivory sparkle and roll My end a beginning, vapor on high I rain on a mountain and flow from the sky Do I end? said the woman, lover and friend Never, forever these messages send: Over the edge of dying I fell Flowing like water from heaven to hell But then like a sun my Lord drew me up And drank me like wine from His bottomless cup Did I end? said my father, where did I go? Over the edge of dying we flow Down to the sea of forever we glide As rivers of water flowed from His side We from the wounds of the present and past Drink of forever, ocean at last Pavel Chichikov March 27, 1995 PROPHETS In daylight the water of speaking and sight But all revelation depends on the night Those who rise early, when day is asleep Know of the hour when breathing is deep And vision is inward, affixed to a zone Exciting the dreamer beside us to groan Dark in the valley of death comes the one Who gathers the blossoms of kingdoms to come Those of the past and the future entwine Hands of the briar and hands of the vine Blossoms of daylight and blossoms of night Mix with the petals of faith and of fright All that he gathers he holds in his arms While birds of awakening sing their alarms Pavel Chichikov March 27, 1995 THE SHIPWRECK An undiscovered island is the One, Rises bluff and forepeak from the sea, Lonely is the shipwreck of a woman, Sons and husband dead, at seventy Feral empty coast, a land corrupt Sterile fevers infiltrate their dust Serpents of her memories rear up Scales of iron animate their rust Loneliness consumes the iron dead Loneliness the ribald and the lewd Loneliness unspeakable and sour Loneliness humiliating, shrewd Abasement of the living left to live The only panacea is to give Pavel Chichikov March 28, 1995 PERFORMANCE For T.R. You train yourself to grief each day To weep and to repine Like dancers letting go the barre Your dead in mortal grand jete, Three weightless griefs who raise themselves Above the soul, three greedy stars To fascinate and shine. As dead they come: Do not repine, Therese, Much safer than you living ones We have no need to glitter grief But let us living go, release Absolves the soul who makes immortals dance When they would be at peace, Your husband and your sons. Pavel Chichikov March 29, 1995 REVENANTS A liter of whiskey every day An insult to the brain Another flings herself through space Infatuate, or just insane As if a door were opened And nothing inside to see Each soul of God who goes To her impetuous eternity I cant listenlet them speak Let them be found and followed Return them from where dumb Death has gnashed and swallowed Would they kill themselves Unraveled if they knew How much of love to learn from death When dying let them through Take themrelease them Affirm them with Your name We who could not listen longer Accept the blame Pavel Chichikov April 1, 1995 MUSEUM I saw the Pharaoh Lucifer Aloft in a dark gallery His stomach on a pedestal His skullcap made of iron And though he flew in place His arms were stretched in flight Iron legs away Long hair streaming out (Waves of metal hair) Traveling through the air Oblivious he rode Unstatic not ecstatic Silent, moving, still Sufficient in his will Where was he going? In another hall I saw A throneroom and a throne A king was seated there Emperor and slave Arrogant of flesh Red with brilliance But Lucifer departed Unmothlike from the light I would most thankful be If he would not see me Pavel Chichikov April 3, 1995 O BLESSING Just once to see O Blessed God The flightfeathers of the crow The droop and twist of the long shafts The light rebuffed And then from the river scrub A mockingbird, a hen Roll her belly sideways Wing the river then Just once to see, my Savior Heavens shadow Pavel Chichikov April 3, 1995 SEVEN SONG Stoop-shouldered Pride Slavering Greed Eros the stupid Envy the weed Anger the swollen Glutton the base Lazy the witless Falls on his face All of them offspring Of Adam the rover Who gave up a kingdom To scuff the world over Roam the world over To puzzle and sweat From morning to moonrise Hes doing it yet Those are his children His fatuous Cains If Eden were his He would do it again Do it again He never will learn Though swords of the angels Whistle and burn Those are his children Although he dissemble The father denies But the offspring resemble Pavel Chichikov April 4, 1995 THE IDIOT You are old, the dying sun is red and Life recedes, the warmth declines, Spin decrepit world in five times ten Hours of the ancient kind Old world, and you still graceful weave Exhausted sterile seas, immense Their saline waves heave up to sieve And wash the withered continents One last human soul their guest The battered hills his university An immigrant from borrowed dust He lives from sanity to sanity And still the serpent calls him back Unprofited with old advice: Take up this fruit and nothing lack And be eternal master of this paradise. 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