poems -- one good, one not so good

a holy sonnet (j. donne)

batter my heart, three-personed god; for you
as yet but knock, breathe, shine and seek to mend;
that i may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
i, like an usurped town, to another due,
labour to admit you, but o, to no end;
reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
but is captived, and proves weak or untrue;
yet dearly i love you, and would be loved fain,
but am betrothed unto your enemy;
divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
take me to you, imprison me, for i,
except you enthral me, never shall be free,
nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
(composed: 1609? (pub. 1633))

"on poetry"
most tentative of clasps we held
upon our first encounter, but
now built within my heart a thirst
none save you dare put out.

parameters of you to know,
your coastline, far, survey to find
your depths, they are unfathomed,
your boundaries divine.

of hours spent within your grasp,
i can but dream to speak,
of nights your vast storehouse of hope
and rebirth bade me sleep.

'til now no aspirations lie
inside me but those your face
inhabits -- our first halting grasp
since become a sure embrace.
(28 mar. 1994)