BY JAN HAAG
YOU
12-19-97
I see four flaming poplar trees
from my window:
yellow flames in the
fall,
stick flames in the winter.
I have not been here for
spring.
In summer, late summer,
I was otherwised
occupied:
getting to know you
in the garden where you polish
your
stone,
in the white room
where you worry and laugh.
In the
spring, when the daffodils
bloom before the lilacs,
let the stone
absorb oil from your hands,
let the sphere complete its
fullness,
let the alabaster become like a crystal.
Look!
Let it
reflect you as you are.
Copyright © 2000 Jan Haag
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Jan Haag may be reached via e-mail: jhaag@u.washington.edu
You, 12/19/97
Then, 12-20-97
Other, 12-21-97
Empty, 12-22-97
Not, 12-23-97
Work, 12-24-97
Little, 12-25-97
Blank Space, 12-26-97
The Nafs, 12-26-97
Poems With Blankness Beyond,
12-27-97
Without Words, 12-28-97
Silence Again, 12-29-97
Howlessness, 12-30-97
Between The Lines, 12-31-97
Beside Those, 1-1-98
Ranked, 1-2-98
The Place Between, 1-3-98
Said, 1-4-98
They, 1-5-98
Space And Foreboding, 1-6-98
Before She, 1-7-98
Above This Present,
Emptiness 1-8-98
Thought, 1-9-98
No Words, 1-10-98
Of Spiritual, 1-11-98
Every Human, 1-12-98
Clouds, 1-13-98
OTHER POEMS
BY JAN HAAG