This is a poem I started in 1982. I finished it once (badly), but never published it anywhere, except in a music program. The composer Dell Wade, set it to music once and performed it with (I think) a soprano and a chamber orchestra (I have a cassette somewhere). My friend Frances Hayden translated it into spanish (Litania).
When I started this, I was fascinated (as I still am) by Christopher Smart's fantastic call and response litany Jubilate Agno. Now that I am finishing a book of poems, I have resurrected a few of those old nuggets. After decades maturing, most of them went straight to the trashcan, but about fifteen or so were successfully (and success in this instance, is of, course, debatable, and you, the poor, hapless reader must decide on your own) resurrected, seriously rewritten, and offered up, as Rod Serling would say, for your inspection.
Litany
Let us cut the poets loose
For the earth is trenched with their wanderings
For they trample the blood-waged borders
For their steps bisect old steps
Let them find their way
For they wage tense inner century wars
For they need permission
For they could scribe heartlines
Let them do what they will
For they remember to remember
For they share the common air
For their peopled hearts waltz
Let them praise the little lamb
For the wolf has already been sung
For God said I Am That I Am
For we have arrived at the year two grand
Let them dream of a song to leave
For they brood about the blank beside their birthyear in books
For the trees don't last forever
For the oysters refuse to sing.
---o0o---
1982-2006
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