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Freedom 

Captivity 

Rage and mercy 

So much coiled.into this work 

It hirt to read and yet I was compelled to read and re read and soak up the nuances and the explosive opportunities for ideas that float unhampered and unhampered  through the universe. From a proud stallion to the pain of humiliation rising to rage 

Majestic imagery with clear and relevant POVs. 

The same savagery weilded by a machete can easily be matched by the whisper of a few words,  when we harness  what we admire for our own selfish gains it becomes not what it was and thus often despised. You can lead a horse ...but...

Flash to the quieting of dives cooing with fall of the veil of death peace freedom rage sloughs off into yesterday to the earth as the freedom pulls us up things the ether 

Mercy knows where its at, 

Sometimes you have to be on your knees for a different take and  sometimes if not all times death can be merciful. Clearly an intense and affecting masterpiece. 

Best blessingss 

A great write, as all are, thought provoking, and a valuable lesson in the phrasing of words. 

Thanks for sharing with us. 

Once again, we have one of those key events at PostPoems:  the posting of a new poem by Patricia.  And, I am embarrassed to say, once again my keyboarding skills are not as I would wish them to be, but I will try to be careful about typos in this comment.

I normally like to locate the poem's center of gravity first, having learned to do this from reading the great scholar Helen Vendler's various analyses of Wallace Stevens' poems; and it is always very useful, to any comment, to do that first.  However, from time to time, Patricia gives us not only a poem's center of gravity, but also one of her entire collection's centers; and she has done that here.  I  like to poiint these out so that, in decades to come, some enterprising grad student can create a grid of all those mega-centers---which will then become an aid to appreciating her entire collection.  Her words, "strings / of spirit in the solid world / that holds me."  This phrase is key---both to the poem that is before us now, and to her expanding collection.  I am already particularly enamored of it because it so succinctly describes and designates the kind of cosmos that inhabits Patricia's poems.  I am going to reiterate that phrase in bold print because I deem it so important, both to the poem and to the collection that contains the poem:  "strings / of spirit in the solid world / that holds me."  Patricia's poems are so artistically consistent that each of them presents a center of gravity---a line, or a couple of lines, or a stanza which, when the reader locates it, becomes a disclosure of the poem's spiritual genetics (if I may mis a metaphor).  Those key phrases, embedded here and there in the texts (I think of the metaphor of Easter Eggs), provide insight into the poems interior mechanism.  

Having located our key phrase, we can then move on to find out what is the poem's ultimate purpose as a poem:  to what destination is it moving, and what are the circumstances of its arrival?  This poem locates that information in the stanza that beings with "Mercy: / Just a taste . . ."  And Mercy, which is one of God's foremost qualities, allows us to proceed to some very wondrous vantage points:  the entrance to the Universe itself, the vast space that exists in and beyond the gaze of Polaris, and the blizzard of galaxies.  (I do believe Patricia ought to write captions for the photographs transmitted from the James Webb telescope.)  And then she gives us a process and a purpose that has inspired, even haunted, the ancient rituals  of the mystery religions, and the more modern rituals of fraternal societies of our time:  to become the cntained and the unbound glint of the Unknowable.  To achieve that; to arrive at that; to participate in that---this is what the poem, not just inidividually but in concert with all her other poems, strives to convey.  And because it is one of Patricia's poems, you are assured---even guaranteed---that its conveyance, its presentation of its contents, will be inimitably and splendidly successful.

I will close with this thought.  I am not an admirer of Homer; and I happen to believe the theory (and I forget, at the moment, who first proprosed it) that Nausicaa (herself a character in the Odyssey) and not Homer actually wrote the epic, which is why her encounters with him, which do next to nothing to advance his story, are so prominent.  Just hours ago, I was reading an essay that talked about how the author of the Odyssey (Homer?  Nausicaa? or another poet like the later Trochaic Septinarius, of whom the scholar, Taphless Gibler has so eloquently written) composes a scene with all its contents in the foreground.  Nothing is relegated to the background, nothing is left for the reader to search for in the background, or even outside the poem's narrative:  eveything necessary to the presentation of each of the epic's episodes is provided up front and with immediacy.  And I now realize that this poem of Patricia's, and her entire poetic accomplishment, functions in this same way:  everything the reader needs to understand or, even better, to comprehend the cosmos she describes is provided

    They tell me that the James Webb telescope is transmitting images from millions of light years of distance.  And everything that swatch of outer space has to show us is presented right there in the collected image.  Nothing is hidden or left to the viewer's fond hopes to be able to take it all in.  And this is how those images resemble Patricia's poem, and Poems, and Nausicaa's epic---everything necessary is foregrounded; everything necessary is provided .  This is how the cosmic aspect of Patricia's poem operates; this is her consistent approach to the construction of her poems; and this is why her poems have such a bright, iridescent future ahead of them.  

It has been a privilege to write this response to the poem, and to try, in however a minor way, to offer a useful perspective on the literary art of Patriciajj.  But to her readers (and I am fortunate enough to be among that chosen company), the greatest privilege of all is in the reading of the poems, and in their presentation of her cosmic vision.