by
Josephine Miles
“The
Lions of Fire Shall Have their Hunting”
The
lions of fire
Shall
have their hunting in this black land
Their
teeth shall tear at your soft throats
Their
claws kill
O the lions of fire shall awake
And
the valleys steam with their fury
Because you are sick with the dirt of your money
Because
you are pigs rooting in the swill of your war
Because
you are mean and sly and full of the pus of your pious murder
Because
you have turned your faces from God
Because
you have spread your filth everywhere
Oh the lions of fire
Wait
in the crawling shadows of your world
And
their terrible eyes are watching you.
Midnight
Special
There
were no antelope on the balcony
And
Thomas had not yet appeared
At
the barred window above the precipice
A
little snow had fallen since the afternoon
But
it was warm in the thought
Of
distant forests and I said: “God
Will
not suffer if I run my hands
Out
over these deeps and shy groves
Until
I touch my own undertaking”
But
Thomas was busy at his gruel
And
when the antelope did come
The
management had rigged up a loudspeaker
On
the balcony and I was asked to say
A
few words to the present George 6th
So
I said: “Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me.
O
let the Midnight Special shine its everlovin' light on me.”
“O
My Love the Pretty Towns”
O
my love
The
pretty towns
All
the blue tents of our nights together
And
the lilies and the birds glad in our joy
The
road through the forest
Where
the surly wolf lived
And
the snow at the top of the mountain
And
the little
Rain
falling on the roofs of the village
O
my love my dear lady
The
world is not very big
There
is only room for our wonder
And
the light leaning winds of heaven
Are
not more sweet or pure
Than
your mouth on my throat
O
my love there are larks in our morning
And
the finding flame of your hands
And
the moss on the bank of the river
And
the butterflies
And
the whirling-mad
Butterflies!
From The Voice That is Great Within Us (1971).
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