NAKED

  We are mapped
in stitched flesh,
   ragged sighs.

    The naked
 know the way.

Learning love's fierce art,
         the naked walk
         the blood trail

            in silence

         to the heart.


-  Ivan M. Granger

germination and desire

LIKE A SEED

every
broken
dream

is
like
a seed
that
f
a
l
l
s

and is welcomed
by the soft black earth

and all the other dying things


be still now
and rest

rest safe
in the warm
silent
dark

for this
is God's womb
where
the force
of new life is at work

   - sally the geologian

of Rhodes it is said

 

 

The animated figures stand

Adorning every public street

And seem to breathe in stone, or

Move their marble feet.

                         -  Pindar

haiku

minutes to go
noplace seems real anymore
even the clouds are disinterested

a view

COME TO THE EDGE

come to the edge.
   -we might fall!
come to the edge.
    -it's too high!
COME TO THE EDGE.
and they came.
and we pushed.
and they flew.

-  Christopher Logue   +2011

intestinal stirrings of nuance

Angels of the house, come! May the power of Heaven spread
Through all the veins of life, ennobling and invigorating
And dispensing joy! So that joyful angels attend upon
Human goodness every hour of the day, and that
Such joy as I experience now, when loved ones
Are properly reunited, be suitably sanctified.
When we bless the meal, upon whom shall I call,
And when we rest after the day's activity, tell me,
How will I offer thanks? Should I call the Highest by name?
A god doesn't like what is inappropriate. Maybe our joy
Isn't big enough to grasp him. We must often remain silent,
A sacred language is missing — hearts are beating and yet
Speech can't emerge? But the sound of string music
Resonates hour by hour, and perhaps that pleases
The approaching gods. Begin the music, and the worries
Almost vanish which would have affected our joy.
Willingly or not, poets must often concern themselves
With such things, but not with others.

==Hoelderlin, from "Homecoming"

ALL NATURE HAS A FEELING

All nature has a feeling: woods, fields, brooks
Are life eternal:  and in silence they
Speak happiness beyond the reach of books;
There's nothing mortal in them;  their decay -woods, fields , brooks

Is the green life of change to pass away
And come again in blooms revivified.
Its birth was heaven,  eternal is its stay.
And with the Sun and Moon shall still abide
Beneathe their day and night and heaven wide.

   - John Clare     (1793-1864)