publishing poetry only

Monday's Poem

© 2009 Ken Stange

Ken Stange is a writer, visual artist, and occasional scientific researcher. His works include ten books of poetry and fiction, literally hundreds of publications in literary magazines, as well as scientific papers in refereed journals, computer programs, arts journalism, philosophical essays, and visual art. He pays the bills as a tenured university lecturer at Nipissing University in North Bay Ontario, where one of his courses is on the psychology of art and creativity. He has a wife who teaches philosophy, a daughter who is a theoretical mathematician, and a son who is website designer. He also has two dogs and no time.



(For Neil Palmer, In Memoriam)
Just as stone can be soft, even the gentlest light can be hard.

A man, a craftsman, he was as
understanding as time's passing
but more forgiving; was a voice:
resonant as a great chamber, a heart's
chamber, large as he was small,
rich as he was poor, powerful
as he was gentle. Chamber music.
Simple as green. Complex as Bach.
Sometimes working for hours
trying to shape the thing just right
it must have seemed a night journey
gone astray in a fog of solitude,
so I wonder if the soapstone
(heavy as these belated words,
soft as too-late good intentions)
sometimes made him angry.
But all fear must have dissolved
in his private peace so that even in anger
his dignity shone through: translucent
as understanding, as time in the
unbounded chamber of this world,
this heart, where he still lives,
still speaks, still shapes
the paradoxical stone light.