Member Since: 10/21/2006
Band Website: robertyates.ca
Band Members:
TRAIL SIGN
Cootes Paradise
Influences:
This night is coupled
to all the others
as it rattles by
like all the others,
its direction fixed,
its destination unknown.
It is no caboose.
It is no engine.
Listen. That sound is
love's offering:
Pang. Pang. Pang.
or the wooden dance
of the one-legged man.
Above, the love has fallen off.
The substance of
understanding,
beneath.
I know the patient intensity
of the wolf:
eyes, eyes, eyes . . .
then teeth.
Every day this night returns
and curls into its lair.
Every night this day returns,
turns in in time for prayer.
Use words to think
not just to talk.
Use words for poems
not punning.
Shepherd, shepherd,
call your flock,
and all the wolves come
running.
Innocence in
the guise of guile,
the salamander escapes
the fire,
returns unto
the cordwood pile,
and the great wheel turns.
Sounds Like:
Red Hill Valley
Requiem
Enter the Story Untold
Enter the story untold.
Wait for your time to come,
north-west of a whisper,
south-east of a scream.
The weather grows cold,
the cold river flows
south-west of a word
and north-east of meaning.
Ice, mask of rivers,
harden your stare.
Remind us of the whiteness
here and everywhere.
Our axis is askew,
listen, you can see.
Don’t ask me why,
hear my song, I am singing.
I hear wind in the trees
But it amounts to silence.
I was not always here,
it was not always my image in that mirror.
Alone, I peel a grape,
what mouth awaits?
What ears await these words?
Hear my song, I am singing.
That shadow leading to my feet,
what strange shape is that?
Let the great white light of the page
behind these black words grow.
What will come will come again
and will until we know its name.
O Great Albino Light,
come into this night.
I see the birds have wings,
I understand their shadows
and the silent rush of patches
on the ground towards me.
There is no waiting in those eyes,
I’d know that look anywhere.
All eyes have the same expression
when they see a purple lilac.
A wait awaits you there,
the waiting to go home.
At home you will not wait,
you have arrived.
Silence is standing on its head.
Mother Tongue has put her words to bed.
What was seen will soon be said
in dreams.
Record Label:
Type of Label: None