668 and 669

I prithee, lord, another week to work

upon the essay that I asked of thee.

My soul is willing, but my flesh doth shirk

where’er procrastination conquers me.

Too many sonnets have I lent my hand

to spare enough words for the better part.

The research is now seven pages, and

I need to add a quote and one more chart.

This weekend I must travel, and will see

no keyboard made for writing on my way,

but if I have but one week more, I’ll be

encumbered with ten pages next Sunday.

Professor Fischer, spare my sordid grade,

until my findings are fairly arrayed!

~~~

So many years ago—I had forgot

how bright great distances can transform you.

How, when no other distractions can blot

you out, what all the emptiness does you.

And with no other face looking at me,

yours will recall its clean clairvoyance, and

its true form--its unconquered clarity,

by the besmirching hands of man unspanned.

Then “fair” is redefined. For blemishes

make not your fairness any less. But clear

they show, and all my wonder ravishes,

and more so the more clear your scars appear.

Send all my love to midnight, not to noon,

in places where no light pollutes the moon.