Part 1

Produced by Al Haines, produced from scans provided by Steven Bartlett

POEMS OF YES AND NO

Elizabeth Bartlett

_Poems of Yes and No_, was originally published in 1952 by Editorial Jus in Mexico City, and is now out-of-print. The author's literary executor, Steven James Bartlett, has decided to make the book available as an open access publication, freely available to readers through Project Gutenberg under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-NoDerivs license, which allows anyone to distribute this work without changes to its content, provided that both the author and the original URL from which this work was obtained are mentioned, that the contents of this work are not used for commercial purposes or profit, and that this work will not be used without the copyright holder's written permission in derivative works (i.e., you may not alter, transform, or build upon this work without such permission). The full legal statement of this license may be found at:

http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/legalcode

poems

of

yes and no

elizabeth bartlett

editorial jus méxico

some of these poems have appeared in poetry chapbook, arizona quarterly, southwest review, prairie schooner, university of kansas city review, new york times and mexican life magazine

yes, paul -- with all my heart

first edition 1952 number 2

contents

yes

search the wild wind lesson on five fingers journey to jerusalem prayer for four seasons ekstasis challenge while I live odyssey life I love mood on a string time is a palette dusk I love the lovers whatever else may be tropic time stormbird the wind and the rain art diary grassflesh the now and here swallows return reply to critics

no

step softly I would remember now and forever catchtraps beyond cost summer and winter suddenly item: body found on trial guadalajara pilgrimage washday in the tropics only this maturity alter ego this much I know about time in the wake of sleep cold wakening weather forecast measured interval black sun log for a voyage notes for the future

yes yes yes yes yes

yes yes yes yes yes

yes yes yes yes yes

yes yes yes yes yes

yes yes yes yes yes

yes yes yes yes yes

yes yes yes yes yes

yes yes yes yes yes

search the wild wind

search the wild wind when the foals of spring leap by leave the summer colts behind nose up, head high

stretch the hill's ribs when the stable gates are wide lead the mares from manger cribs stallion with pride

reach the storm's heart when the world is lost to sight buck the sky and cliffs apart clouds black, snow white

pitch a new tent when the greengrass disappears paw beneath the crystal scent sweet leaves, fresh spears

march with the dawn when the nights grow long and cold seek for pastures not yet born rider, be bold

lesson on five fingers

now that I have learned how seasons are returned brook my laughter here to the running years waterfall the fears

now that I realize how much the world denies green my sense leaves bright to chlorophyl of light photocell the nights

now that I have found how each must choose his ground terrace my piece of time to a hill of sweet limes stairway the climb

now that I have seen how cunning walks between mountain my trust high to the pigmy wise landslide the lies

now that I understand how heart unites with hand radar the future free to the dove singing me laurel the peace

journey to jerusalem

sky our thoughts to midnight that hold no noon's repose silence speaks in clearer voice than day's tumultuous crows

unpave the streets to earthscape grass pillow to our heads as virgin stars attend once more moon music forested

mountain our hearts to the lion tender our hands to the dove olive the branch over zion to israelite our love

flower this hope to the springtime summer our dream with its fruit festive the fields in the autumn winter the future's root

prayer for four seasons

rain, rain on me make me green as lettuce leaf at spring's fresh core

sun, shine on me burn me bright as coral reef on island shore

wind, blow on me sweep me clean as grain fields tall for autumn's mill

stars, sing for me lark the night as snowflakes fall on woods and hill

ekstasis

all the hills of the world lie here aeolus ride your winds the skybound clouds leap out like deer daedalus fly your wings

the fields are green with sun and shade pegasus strike your hoof the silence sings, the people fade hesperus light my roof

the ocean's wide and far away tantalus drink your fill no distant lands draw me astray orpheus bring your skill

olympus is within my heart poetry lift me high with pagan joy I sing my art melody till I die

challenge

tell me, in this high land of mountained length where time is green and space big-bellied with fruitful plains rockribbed by corn and bean for simple courage, do you know strength as something earned through bitterness of need in narrow streets and tortured rooms, oh hungry lean

listen, above the winding road come sounds descending on bells, sky voices and wind mixing with the shy four footed ones' cries, what do they tell, can you hear from the grounds of city skyscrapers through the tunnelthinned walls that rail the nervetracked brain with wooden ties

look you, whose eyes are wise with too much seen through doors and windows, in whom the sunlight is confined by steel canyons and arctic nights, here is heart space, here clouds rise between warm currents to open roofs, see how the height of climb and width of free brightens to tropic

taste this, you tongue lovers, you gourmets, you who know the ends for which the palette buds bloom to burst on a thousand sauces, wines, rare meats and molded cheeses, what brew is this, what essence extracted from muds and rooted origins of leaf that taste defines

breathe, ah breathe again, purge out the unclear lungs, the downbent head, smell has other use than multiplies in shop and factory to substitute the sense, no need to fear the pure air here, to hide subtle and obtuse behind the mob's excuse, here the wind blows free

reach out, know touch as up and down, the span of head to heel, thigh to shoulder, each side with rough of bark to blossom, stone to dust, how else but by the feel, the real, can man press nature to his will and impel his pride in shaping to his needs an earth which he can trust

go up, your feet will take you high above streets and buildings to a new position forget the old appointments, you have a more important one with God to measure love not by the scrupled ways of acquisition but freely as the stars that follow and explore

while I live

my love is a hart seeking the waterfall where he may press two lips against its crystal depths--see how he leaps to kiss the imaged mist that bubbles up beneath him--he staggers, kissed

my love is an alpine trail that mountains climb above clouds and timber to heights out of time and measure--no distance there or memory for weak foot and tired brain--but death only

my love is a trumpet sustaining its call to the last clear breath--listen, the interval, out of canyon silences, on the dry wind, the throat of night catches, its echoes are thinned

my love is a dream where childhood fell asleep beckoned by shadows that lengthen as they creep; now she sighs, weeps, losing her way--morning wakes the sleeper and she smiles, her eyes are lakes

odyssey

ah never say the dreams were false that boy and girl were madly bold not time but timeless changes all man and woman we should know

what we dreamed was what we were and could not timeless be two strange wild things in universe too tame for altering

then let them keep without reserve the wings they had prepared and while we walk a humbled earth see them with spirit dare

life I love

life I love who know the heart's unease the mind's disease, the search unending to a blind conclusion

I have gone so many ways towards praise, away from blame to find seclusion

known coldest doubt and passionate release the after peace of countless wars grown tired by their own diffusion

how many changes seen: chance days nights, the grays of violent and tame mixed in the time's confusion

dreamed plans, wished hopes without cease no single piece of life sought without delusion

and yet have loved each coming, going blaze each phase, willed and thrilled to every flame that brightened the illusion

then let me know death as one who foresees breath's end to seize a new beginning through the soul's transfusion

mood on a string

again the after rain and shine of night when mellow yellow patternings of light make rivers run through streets of mirrors bright to where the air brings thought from its seclude as though a silver magnet drew a rood about the mind's internal solitude

then is the darkness gentle to my sight with glossy lamps to toss me into flight and give to sleep the freeness of a kite that after storm can rise in amplitude above the clinging wet still unsubdued to sail in lonely splendor wind pursued

time is a palette

each day has its color radiates each day its own color on the wheel endlessly

and they are wrong who say all colors are gray they are blind or else unimaginatively

well I remember the primary days the reds and yellows and blues those brilliant saturated hues each its own bright self intensively

a day red as a ripe warm plum on the mouth staining chin and blouse with summer while leaves on a red tree flamed in crimson joy shamelessly

and there were other reds for feathers dipped in blood to sign youth's honor on a windless sky running over rooftops most solemneyed earnestly

or red for something velvet deep over quivering flesh and trembling hair stabbing the breath with a wild commotion like coroncitas on a christmas tree ecstatically

a vivid red each time coloring morning to evening canvas of that particular day connecting sleep with sleep in the intimate dye imperishably

yellow was first word for gold then sun and it was always rich like the promise of a wedding ring or shining birthday coin inevitably

yellow was wish more often than anything seen or heard except for the canary my father kept as his own yellow sign pure and unalloyed incorruptibly

mostly it was feeling the evidence and substance in one symbol of perfection and as rare when harsh-cold-rough were there it wasn't yellow changelessly

precious as treasure awarded by the gods to saint and hero like the holy grail the lost chord those unrecoverable legends fabulously

blue was definite less temperamental than red more tangible than yellow like summer sigh or puff of winter air the outlines of dawn to dusk distinguishably

blue was practical and necessary like the blueing used in my mother's wash like smoke water air and sky blue for everything clear and understandable unmistakably

but blue had magic too meaning giant ships and giant fish rockets to the moon and planet shores too big and far away too terribly true incredibly

a glamorous color blue suiting cinderella's glass slipper forget me nots and chinese porcelain and once I found a blue shell so fragile I let it crumble on the sand irretrievably

but even the primary colors are not all the colors and each day has its color each day radiates its own color on the wheel endlessly

and they are wrong who say all colors are gray unable to remember unwilling to separate with desperate impatience unimaginatively

dusk I love

dusk I love who know the morning's light the night's darkness, the black and white of yes and no and all false and true

I have lived with definite so long with wrong and right, with weak and strong with how much undefined dusk by you

for I have seen the between hours when towers grew soft as flowers and cold stones were stemmed in warmest hue

and I have watched a kind gentle grace take place behind the coarser face unloose the many masks old and new

I too felt the purple air's dissent from meant purpose and clear intent nothing certain but a changing view

then let me have time's dusk perspective to give the life men think they live an outer shape and an inner clue

the lovers

after the sunlight over barren fields after the dry wind through stony creeks we found our little green where lilies were and knee deep oxen stood watching us triumphant under trees... for this was peace as nature meant nature's peace to be with fertile soil made ready by its need with instincts tamed in gentler ways than fear with freedom measured freely as the sky measures breath... we lay there side by side breathing kisses, feeling the wet and cool of bodies grassed in loving, each a groove within a groove seeking counterpart with close-open-close, with light in dark and waves lapping... we heard the overflow of lake on buttressed dam down sluiced walls making music in ditches, singing birth to stalks in the earth, with giant surge of up and out bringing humanity a greater day for love... then happily we rose and barefoot walked the golden green to where horses and men waded beneath multifoliate rays of setting sun their work done before the darkness come to cheat them... together all of us swam glad for the fresh clean water which ran on hands and hoofs, on flesh and hide, like beams bathing between, feeling our oneness sweet reward, for the sun was a broken sword pointing the peace towards our tomorrow

whatever else may be

as long as you're happy there were flowers on the street and sweetmeats at noon and a high wind in the towers ceaselessly

as long as you're happy there were mornings in the sun and nights in the moon and a magic in the warnings heedlessly

as long as it was long heart was head and hands were feet heat was heavy, still and words were trees with roots of red urgently

as long as--happy song wish was flight and new worlds won space was empty, chill and lips were birds with feathers light fervently

for long is as long as life is as strong as ah to be happy and free

tropic time

here before old leaves go new leaves come in here before old loves know new loves begin

now when the year's one spring no season chills now when the fear's one thing no reason kills

this is time after then there was regret this time is laughter when where we forget

stormbird

the winds have abated and the rain now the lonely dark comes again with blue lines running in the mind with hands explorative and blind

(was it the bitter taste of smoke or pepper berries? lips parted spoke words out of kisses bringing fears no nearer to relief than tears)

now memory is of lightning, flares in the night, with darkeyed cares encircling universes strange as the skies through which they range

thunder removes to distant space-- from quiet woods where ancient grace roots tree in soil and lake is mild only the stormbird's flight is wild

the wind and the rain

thoughts in my head like wind through pines

lift to north veer to south shift to east rear to west

the wind not the pines till my thoughts are dead

love in my heart like rain on dust

stirs to dawn dries to noon whirs to dusk cries to night

the rain not the dust till my love depart

art

worthier than words the meaning kiss which makes true poetry of lips which sets a wisdom into rhyme no pen can simulate by line

music has cadence but heartbeats sound what no ear ever tuned beyond a harmony so fully sensed that voice is mute with instrument

imperative to move the dancer's arms would free the body from those bonds wherein an inner rhythm leaps secret with wonder, flow and cease

the eye's canvas such beauty lights of shade and color and design that brush must hesitate to set a lesser skill on palimpsest

yet kiss is brief and heartbeat slows while freedom captivates us most and beauty turns to counterfeit the images lost in memory's mist

diary

returning miles of space can you find the precise hour travel through that day locate the very moment ago there

the train goes back and forth stops at what time stations monday morning january tenth autumn ten years ago then

the boat arrives departs ticket pier cabin port pre-war london paris rome before the depression remember where

the plane roars lifts the earth speeds me a century past sound past light we know the way back remember when

and buses taxis subways trams for how long how far conversations so much so many who and what and love and life and yes again name place date pen

grass flesh

the deep of night is crept upon our talk and what we had to say the wind will keep until our tongues can thrust up through the stalk and stay the light; meanwhile let silence sleep between us remembering what we were before our eyes were covered by the dark lovers who saw beauty in each other and from the clay drew forth an hour's spark

that hour can not die, though we must lie with stiffened arms about an earth which turned about us once to prove how much of sky there is in love's embrace; our kisses burned the millioned lightyeared stars that now must roam the space of all eternity till dust can rise on flaming wings to plume the dome with fires kindled by our mortal lust

what triumphs we have known within the mesh of failure, time can not scrape from our bones; out of the pregnant dreams of our grass flesh a fertile spring will issue from the stones and flower like our songs in crimson mirth; each hidden sense that death but borrows here to bring about its own more perfect birth with quickened breath will help new life appear

the now and here

the sunlit trees along the quiet street enclose the afternoon on either side their shadows dark and still the dozing heat and there is no morning or night to hide

it might be anywhere the now and here when the heart is simple and forgets the brain in france on a river or a hill in spain when life was peaceful and there was no fear

the reminiscent chord the piano strikes returns us again to the slow learned ease of oars on a boat and the long road hikes the faces and voices like melodies

then old folks gladdened the spry basque danses as student groups mingled to learn quaint ways and families gathered for shore holidays with poppies in the sun and vins des provences

in the city of the mind thoughts like these graze quietly in distant valleys as though time's gaps lay between a range of sunlit afternoons that never change

swallows return

o spring thaw out my winter's chill so cold I might be buried still beneath the snow

long years I lay as one whose night strong arms had banished from the light to mute my song

now wake me from oblivion bow down and lift me to the sun like earth to plow

prepare for me some green retreat enough for summer to complete its ecstasy

let autumn shake its leaves at me set laughter whirling from each tree and I forget

then should my winter come at last when darkened shadows overcast the fields of men

I'll gladly say goodbye and go while memories warm me with their glow across the stile

for every year my dust shall rise o'er mud and rust to welcome skies where swallows soar

reply to critics

tell them who scorn my ways I lived without their praise and will until I die

let them be cynical I have my own faith still to question and deny

the proud and stiff of neck the small who grub and peck both look too low or high

while I but seek to know the feel of things that grow and by my living why

no no no no no no no no

no no no no no no no no

no no no no no no no no

no no no no no no no no

no no no no no no no no

step softly

step softly your feet are on my heart the sawdust underneath hurts less than I even sawdust, dry and dirtied by our not particular feet

it's something deep inside that aches I know not why unless the pride mistakes

for the heart that only guesses still will bear the feet that walk upon it but not the heart that knows too often it confesses and breaks

I would remember

I have walked from river's end to end a slow companion to the light seagulls that circle overhead

and I have stood still above the bend that separates the foot from distant hulls to fill my eye with flying sails wings spread

I have watched them many times from where the far shore curves around the sun and holds it there ensnared

while they advanced then dropped midair instinct with seaward gravitation and hungry claws prepared

their wings some shimmering things the wind has caught and suddenly flings in a rain of gold

I am not old and yet when night brings me to town I forget their wings and drown

now and forever

now might I keep you forever thus unchanged against the eventual day for both of us arranged when the rude winds shall bring no promise of another spring but cold and comfortless satisfaction the grave's discreet and quiet action I would not mind the days precisioned to the clock's unwinding flesh to flesh binding would find some way as yet unvisioned some way to forget the fever and the sweat here where lovers have known the soft of hair and hard of bone hearing each other moan a way more conscionably kind for a night's repose but time defined forbids us to dispose of even one brief moment that has passed or keep the moment thus forever fast

catchtraps

we knew the words before we knew their meaning who asked so many whys while still in weaning

how many pitfalls marked with skull and crossbones to outwit those who lay beneath the moss stones

then set about to verify the answers seeking in us the cause of others' cancers

so found ourselves new victims of time's catchtraps and now must moan and curse until the latch snaps

beyond cost

darling don't be lost to me the fear was there under the sleeve lifting the hair

darling don't be lost to me it was a prayer caught like a leaf burning in air

darling you are tossed from me the year is bare wonder and grief drifting to where

darling you are tossed from me what here more rare thought like a thief turning to stare

summer and winter

so many years of many seasons we saw and found together snapped grassroots trembling to the spring plucked berries out of harvesting caught swirling autumn down from trees about us drew a sunbright frieze oh summer was our weather but winter was in our hearts

how many years of many reasons convinced us not to part remembering the search for first green bud the rain paths rainbowed in the mud the cheep behind the window ledge the shutter like a moonshined wedge oh summer was our weather but winter was in our hearts

too many years, too many years we lived and loved together for oh my dear the winter fears destroyed the summer weather for doubts can frost and worries blight the careful seed, the ripened stacks and questions when they come by night leave barren fields behind their tracks

suddenly

there was sun and moon and stars and night and day all taken for granted