Thou Art Beautiful
Thou Art Handsome

Write a poem at dawn

my astonished soul

for her thousand and one secrets,

for her romance with the old gods,


And in the chilly sanctuary

of the sacred cliffs

light a candle and marvel

how silence brightens her image.


Over the widow's walk the tempest prevails.

Over the boards her steps mark the hours.


Hold a steady course my heart

for that pleasant meridian her womb

where the salt catches the light,

where the waters are dark and pure,


And her wise fingers trace

the cardinal points of desire

on a small silver compass

that lies hidden from the sun.


For a thousand years the bells have been still.

In the ruins of the tower the ghosts talk of love.


In the cradle of the waters

she sings a lullaby

an ode to our splendor,

and epitath for our loneliness


And she is my mystery

like ocean or sunlight,

the caress that excites then vanishes

in the clean spray of repose.


Never was there a woman so untarnished by the sea.

The courage of her modesty is legend among the waves.