I like this poem a lot Arthur. It's a mingling of particulars, of what's
seen and what's thought, and gets to what's felt. It's not crowded - it
feels as large and as almost-empty as a church! The last line, too, creates
a big empty space for my thoughts to form and take what you've given me
further.
Bob



>From: arthur007 <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New sub: Receiving into Church
>Date: Tue, 16 Apr 2002 09:30:51 +0100
>
>Receiving into Church. (For T.B.)
>
>Unsure of ancient patterns of worship I stand at the back,
>respectful and glum, the thin whine of words
>obliterated by echoes and the ceremonies of stone.
>
>Stations in white marble retell another agony,
>a garden of candles in the corner
>catch the flame of tears along a widow's cheek.
>
>Object of my respect laid under Christ in Glory.
>Of my charity I muse on calculus, the differentials
>of disparate lives that brings the two of us here,
>
>me hale and chilled, he reduced by his Gethsemane
>to an irregular hexagon of pine and a long night alone.
>Frost is predicted.






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