Darkly Bright Press presents a new poetic odyssey from Phillip Neal Tippin, the author of Ordinary Time. According to the poet:
This series traces the path to Mystery. The lines, while carrying the hope of the “through-ness” of space, frequently align with the fractious flagstones on which tread the day. Their ways and turnings followed where I went, because I go where they are heading. They have yet to come to their end.
The Pilgrimage: Part 1 / Phillip Neal Tippin
I hear a sheaved wind,
A wind that haws,
Furrows heaven’s row.
Big Dipper banners the sky
Before the reading porch
Orion lifts bow above the walk
To Ladder’s prayer door
I appreciate not growing more
If only to get to know my clothes.
Tailing winds rail this airy space
Place of passage, rutted through
The trees grow by reaching.
Leaf through a thought as on a walk
With the mind boughed aloft.
Midst cold and cloud,
Life burrows.
Attent I follow with vision alight,
Seccant I follow slinking askance,
Alas, twain I follow, begging
Bind up what lags behind!
If waters of the mind’s day are foul, brackish
So to oily, myriad will be its film, foam, froth
Nativity restored,
Integrated, First Person
So second person, we
The spoke, may speak
Not so much when as why
Now?
Dancing in Your art,
Under Your song—
Elation of concert.
Lord, let me be
Glad to rest, rejoice
In second person.
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