IT IS NIGHT IN THE EMERALD CITY

it is night in the Emerald City
I don't know why I am writing you
this letter

the green stars sparkle up ahead
but is this cause for celebration?

there are multitudes onstage

but no one in the audience
and we were standing
so magically by

in April's dappled shade:

waiting for the cue to go on

yet birds still trill

and in the stillness
golden poems are launched.

who will christen them,

will you?
at night in the Emerald City
it's so hard to sleep:

they are codifying everything.

I'm burning down the corner

of another unknown page:
here's fuel for a winter's instant!
last evening from my window
I heard the starry sonnets muted
and

bright visions so indicted

that I wept tears of emerald.
I don't know when they'll
banish this

it could be soon

but I'll love still
from universal distances
in God's own grace and conversation-
we're not locked inside this maze.

I'm certain you'll remember

performances are overbooked
at night in the Emerald City
you have to call ahead

all iridescence is forbidden

I can't weep tears of emerald

I just watch the stars,
not the regime

down to the last bright ember

mary angela douglas 7 february 2009/rev. 11 february 2010