from "The Unexpected" by Carol Berge



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                 from                 



            THE UNEXPECTED            



                  by                  



              CAROL BERGE             



                         

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    SONG FOR BEGINNING



    yes    you are permitted    you are 

    allowed    yes    you are hallowed

    are given grace    are

                           valid

    as you are as you stand as you

    walk

         yes    you are forgiven you

    are loved are embraced

                           yes

                               you are

    called excellent as you stand and

    as you simply sit 

                      yes    you start

    thus    a small step    this step

    a hesitant    a wondering    as frond

    of fern in wind

                    then milkweed or

    another step until

                       moss    and then

    yes    you are running there is rain

    the air of light    the leaves

                                   all the

    faces the finally friends o

                                yes

    yes

           you are so beautiful as you

    walk as you run fly not moving in

    wind     leaves

                    are hallowed    the sun

    and your face    o listen

                              all the

               yes    finally

    



 

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    WITH WATER



    each of them says 'I have loved you

    because you have never told me i am ugly'

    soap sets blood: cool water removes it.

    there they go, down the oldest streets

    in each of the cities, wearing the tall hat

    of self-abnegation, their worn fingernails 

    adorned with commemorative postage-stamps

    bearing their youthful faces. last year's

    rumors made cabbages sources of nutrition

    and potatoes were valueless: this was

    reversed ten years ago, and the housewives

    cooked them in every phase. but when

    the house became quiet, the night drowning

    in denigration, 'i have loved you well,

    mark this, mark what i have done, notice,'

    with water, with kettles full of hot water,

    to set the blood, and the next morning

    there they go, toward the village fountain,

    toward the white mistakes of soap to set it.

    





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    TOMCAT DOING NOTHING



         for Frank Murphy

    

    It sits

    it is being an animal

    a male animal

    alive on earth

    it is alive.

    It is alive

    apparently motionless

    the atoms within are moving

    back toward earth

    it is a cat sitting

    apparently doing nothing.

    The ribcage moves

    the diaphragm moves slightly

    the lungs

    the digestive tract.

    Eyes stare straight ahead

    into infinity.

    As he sits immobile

    he is moving moving moving







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    UNFINISHED POEM



    i.  to go out

                  to the world

        this time dressed as a

        japanese printmaker,

        not the eyes or

        epicanthus, but

                        yes,

        perspective

        as that of an island:

        out,

             out into a world,

        to find it earth! and

        more simple, complex

        than it seemed:

                       reducible

        to a few lines with

        shadings, the wood

        to its grain

        rather than to the 

        external form.

                      what

        part of earth are you!

        and after that, to

        go out, 

        perhaps dressed as a

        haida shaman,

                      finding it

        all ocean! and

        strewn with cowry: lines

        across sand.

                     once.

        the land bridged.

    

    

    ii. let it

              be an earth color;

        orange or hematite or

        dark as vital loam

        where rivers are,

                         or blue

        of roots from

        the parched mesas,

                           saved

        distillate of rain

        toward one hand.

        but always

                  as this rug

        woven

        of wool from a real sheep,

        alive, shorn with shears

        and dyed

                perhaps with berries

        until brilliant, or

                           left so:

        the soft natural.

        but always

                   fashioned with

        eyes, with hands,

        as friends' faces, worn or

        young: with the

        nature of it

                     evident,

        brought

                out.

    





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    OF ROOTS AND SOURCES

    

    (for d. levertov)

    

    as when the person's bones and thoughts

    show like branches, through the skin,

    through the years, overlaid in muted or

    fern tracery. or the voice remembered

    when the page is read. it is the sense

    of the thing to come, when discovering

    this face that is not new, after all:

    the idea opposite you which agrees

    with these definitions you have become.

    under spruce, the needles fall and fall,

    the new in patterns resembling letters,

    the past forming their base or the way

    through which the fine sheets climb.

    it is those moving near you, to remind

    of roots and sources, of your own leaf.







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    THE SMALL TOWN

    

    What each of us does

    is so interesting.

    Especially to each other.

    Interesting to each other.

    What we do

    to and with each other.

    This is the most

    interesting place on

    earth at the most

    interesting possible time.

    Here. Right now. We are

    right, now; we are right

    here. We are all right.

    Yes, we are all here.

    Here we are, and it is

    all we are. All of it is so

    interesting, to each other,

    what a place to be placed

    in, in history,

    at this time on earth!

    Doing what we do, the way 

    we do it, to and with

    each other. And always

    so interested in each other.

    If you move here, you

    will automatically be here 

    too, and you will be

    part of what we do

    a moving part of it all

    and therefore interesting

    while you are doing and

    being done to.

    Meantime, we are all here

    in this place and it is

    the best place to be

    more now than ever. 

    

    

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   THE UNEXPECTED was published by Membrane     

   Press, Milwaukee. Copyright 1976 by Carol 

   Berge. 

                                                





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