IDA FASEL
(1909--2012)
Professor Emerita of English, University of Colorado
Poet; Pushcart nominee, 2002
2004 Senior Poet Laureate of Colorado
(b.) New England; (l.) Denver, Colorado

OF ANGELS I live not by a theory but fact Of angels, my indwellers, raising me Above myself in every thought and act, With disapproving science disagree. Of angels, my indwellers, raising me To Jacoob's heights, to read is to portray. With disapproving science disagree Though matched gorilla-close by DNA. To Jacob's heights, to read is to portray The way up by a ladder of my own. Though matched gorilla-close by DNA, My inner voice does not need to be shown The way up by a ladder of my own. You ask what proof. You call my angels fluff. My inner voice does not need to be shown, The holy, holy, holy words enough. You ask what proof. You call my angels fluff. I cannot tell in words what I perceive. The holy, holy, holy words enough, I see. I study stillness. I believe. I cannot tell in words what I perceive Above myself in every thought and act. I see. I study stillness. I believe. I live not by a theory but fact.

Ida Fasel