Daily Dickinson

Where Ships of Purple — gently toss –

Michael Hartford — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 10:41:27 +0000

Where Ships of Purple — gently toss –
On Seas of Daffodil –
Fantastic Sailors — mingle –
And then — the Wharf is still!

A Weight with Needles on the pounds —

Michael Hartford — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 10:41:00 +0000

A Weight with Needles on the pounds –
To push, and pierce, besides –
That if the Flesh resist the Heft –
The puncture — coolly tries –

That not a pore be overlooked
Of all this Compound Frame –
As manifold for Anguish –
As Species — be — for name –

A single Screw of Flesh

Michael Hartford — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 10:41:51 +0000

A single Screw of Flesh
Is all that pins the Soul
That stands for Deity, to Mine,
Upon my side the Veil –

Once witnessed of the Gauze –
Its name is put away
As far from mine, as if no plight
Had printed yesterday,

In tender — solemn Alphabet,
My eyes just turned to see,
When it was smuggled by my sight
Into Eternity –

More Hands — to hold — These are but Two –
One more new-mailed Nerve
Just granted, for the Peril’s sake –
Some striding — Giant — Love –

So greater than the Gods can show,
They slink before the Clay,
That not for all their Heaven can boast
Will let its Keepsake — go

The lonesome for they know not What –

Michael Hartford — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 10:41:32 +0000

The lonesome for they know not What –
The Eastern Exiles — be –
Who strayed beyond the Amber line
Some madder Holiday –

And ever since — the purple Moat
They strive to climb — in vain –
As Birds — that tumble from the clouds
Do fumble at the strain –

The Blessed Ether — taught them –
Some Transatlantic Morn –
When Heaven — was too common — to miss –
Too sure — to dote upon!

Put up my lute!

Michael Hartford — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 10:49:40 +0000

Put up my lute!
What of — my Music!
Since the sole ear I cared to charm –
Passive — as Granite — laps My Music –
Sobbing — will suit — as well as psalm!

Would but the “Memnon” of the Desert –
Teach me the strain
That vanquished Him –
When He — surrendered to the Sunrise –
Maybe — that — would awaken — them!

Put up my lute!

Michael Hartford — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 15:48:14 +0000

Put up my lute!
What of — my Music!
Since the sole ear I cared to charm –
Passive — as Granite — laps My Music –
Sobbing — will suit — as well as psalm!

Would but the “Memnon” of the Desert –
Teach me the strain
That vanquished Him –
When He — surrendered to the Sunrise –
Maybe — that — would awaken — them!

Good Night! Which put the Candle out?

Michael Hartford — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 12:22:55 +0000

Good Night! Which put the Candle out?
A jealous Zephyr — not a doubt –
Ah, friend, you little knew
How long at that celestial wick
The Angels — labored diligent –
Extinguished — now — for you!

It might — have been the Light House spark –
Some Sailor — rowing in the Dark –
Had importuned to see!
It might — have been the waning lamp
That lit the Drummer from the Camp
To purer Reveille!

Delight is as the flight –

Michael Hartford — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 12:22:19 +0000

Delight is as the flight –
Or in the Ratio of it,
As the Schools would say –
The Rainbow’s way –
A Skein
Flung colored, after Rain,
Would suit as bright,
Except that flight
Were Aliment –

“If it would last”
I asked the East,
When that Bent Stripe
Struck up my childish
Firmament –
And I, for glee,
Took Rainbows, as the common way,
And empty Skies
The Eccentricity –

And so with Lives –
And so with Butterflies –
Seen magic — through the fright
That they will cheat the sight –
And Dower latitudes far on –
Some sudden morn –
Our portion — in the fashion –
Done –

If I’m lost — now

Michael Hartford — Sat, 07 Aug 2010 12:22:07 +0000

If I’m lost — now
That I was found –
Shall still my transport be –
That once — on me — those Jasper Gates
Blazed open — suddenly –

That in my awkward — gazing — face –
The Angels — softly peered –
And touched me with their fleeces,
Almost as if they cared –
I’m banished — now — you know it –
How foreign that can be –
You’ll know — Sir — when the Savior’s face
Turns so — away from you –

To die — takes just a little while –

Michael Hartford — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 10:16:45 +0000

To die — takes just a little while –
They say it doesn’t hurt –
It’s only fainter — by degrees –
And then — it’s out of sight –

A darker Ribbon — for a Day –
A Crape upon the Hat –
And then the pretty sunshine comes –
And helps us to forget –

The absent — mystic — creature –
That but for love of us –
Had gone to sleep — that soundest time –
Without the weariness –