{"id":3119,"date":"2017-07-25T00:04:08","date_gmt":"2017-07-25T00:04:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=3119"},"modified":"2017-07-25T19:20:03","modified_gmt":"2017-07-25T19:20:03","slug":"tricia-knoll-summer-2017","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/tricia-knoll-summer-2017\/","title":{"rendered":"Tricia Knoll, Summer 2017"},"content":{"rendered":"

Plea to the Power That Is<\/strong><\/p>\n

After Sappho<\/em><\/p>\n

I come humbly,
\nimplore you \u2013 hitch
\nyour golden drone
\nto our clouds
\nof implausible thrones,
\ngrab the highest apple
\n\u2013 one only you can see \u2013
\non the tallest tree,
\nwatch over me,
\ncome down to where
\nmy heart splits.<\/p>\n

Love, uneasy stones slide
\ndown the gravel mount.
\nGuide our women,
\nthe songs we sing
\nfor safety, for windfall
\napples and ripe assignations.<\/p>\n

We have seen the hyacinths
\ntrampled under wayward boots,
\npurple blotches on dry grass.
\nWe know the repetition
\nof faces on coins
\nwhich haunt persons
\nof poverty.<\/p>\n

Give us love,
\nmore fluid than horses,
\ndarker than mud.
\nWalk with us
\nnow again.<\/p>\n

I do not know what to do.
\nI must have you,
\nsweet that follows bitter
\non my broken tongue,
\nconsort.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Buddha\u2019s Stallion and the Woman Who Married Wallace Stevens<\/strong><\/p>\n

Buddha\u2019s white stallion carried him from the palace,
\naway from noble warrior games and jumped the river.
\nWhen Siddhartha tied the proud Kinthaka to a tree,
\nthe young bridegroom fled for freedom, to roam,
\nfind his way, and broke the loyal horse\u2019s heart.
\nA heart that returned after death as a follower.
\nThis horse carved on the stupas, painted, sketched \u2013 the way
\nstarts as a mounted man on a path out of town.<\/p>\n

Elsie Stevens could have claimed I am the woman
\non the Liberty dime. She never did. Historians did,
\ncompared her image to a sculpture of her
\nthat Adolph Weinman made at another time, the fact
\nthe Stevens and Weinman lived in the same building.
\nLiberty\u2019s feathered cap for freedom of thought,
\non a wife who kept separate worlds, rooms apart,
\nstrained and uncertain under crystal chandeliers.<\/p>\n

Supporting actors, perhaps, of heartbreak, those who wait,
\nnever shake loose obligations and adorations. The reward
\nof secondaries in the ranks, faithful. Who we each might be.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The History of Shadows<\/strong><\/p>\n

At the time of nakedness, who first looked back
\nat daybreak and saw gray garments,
\nparadox in floating form without
\npretense or need for forgiveness?<\/p>\n

Perhaps the cave fire cast black tracery
\none lover used to paint a hunter or a horse
\non rock. Another glanced into the flagrancy
\nof flames. A third rocked the baby.<\/p>\n

One asked another to dance, join hands
\nand bellies to wave up a magpie, goat or leaping stag.
\nWoman and woman. Man and man. Man and woman.
\nSurpises on stone.<\/p>\n

When did mind doctors say that unknowns
\nburrow? That pouring in gold light
\nsoothes the skew out of sideways,
\nrestores truth or floods creativity?<\/p>\n

Who was the first to know that an atomic bomb
\ncould burn the shadow of a tired man onto granite steps?
\nWho knows behind what gilded organ pipe
\nlies the resonant shade of the fugue?<\/p>\n

The hint of that kitchen where you were a child,
\nsniff of cinnamon, cumin, or curry. Do you carry
\nthese attached to the clothes of your wanderings?
\nIs memory what you know only when you see it?<\/p>\n

The simple flickers of dying leaves
\ndance in sun over wild dirt
\nbefore they choose to fall.
\nTwofold.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Find out more about Tricia Knoll’s work by visiting her website at www.triciaknoll.com<\/a>\u00a0and her Amazon Author Page.<\/a> (Twitter: @triciaknollwind)<\/p>\n

Knoll’s newest book, Broadfork Farm<\/em><\/a>, (poetry about a small organic farm in Trout Lake, Washington) \u00a0is available on Amazon and through the publisher, The Poetry Box.<\/p>\n

Also available on Amazon: From Aldrich Press, Ocean’s Laughter<\/em> — a book of lyric and eco-poetry about Manzanita, Oregon and\u00a0Urban Wild<\/em>, a poetry chapbook available from Finishing Line Press<\/a>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Plea to the Power That Is After Sappho I come humbly, implore you \u2013 hitch your golden drone to our clouds of implausible thrones, grab the highest apple \u2013 one only you can see \u2013 on the tallest tree, watch over me, come down to where my heart splits. Love, uneasy stones slide down the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-3119","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nTricia Knoll, Summer 2017 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/tricia-knoll-summer-2017\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Tricia Knoll, Summer 2017 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Plea to the Power That Is After Sappho I come humbly, implore you \u2013 hitch your golden drone to our clouds of implausible thrones, grab the highest apple \u2013 one only you can see \u2013 on the tallest tree, watch over me, come down to where my heart splits. 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